Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie
by Max and Liz believer
Summary: Max, Michael and Isabel were part of the rich and popular crowd at Roswell High. The intelligent, yet respected, Liz moved in different circles, preferably avoiding the aforementioned trio at all costs. Until that Halloween party, which changed everything. What if the small town in New Mexico hid terrible secrets and repeatedly silenced the truth?
1. ONE

**ONE**

"Ms. Parker," the rough voice said, pulling me abruptly out of my thoughts which were entangled with the common task of organizing my study schedule for the weekend. But it wasn't the roughness of his voice that had me turning my head, rather the seduction dripping like sweet syrup of my otherwise very ordinary name.

My body knew who it was even before my mind registered the clarity of his voice and my shoulders were already squaring, my back straightening, against what I hoped to be a fearless front to the man I was about to face.

Michael Guerin.

His stone face looked slightly bemused as his eyes collided with mine and a tremble of nervousness went through my body. Against my intention, the tremble vibrated through my voice as I spoke, "Y-yes?"

His head angled slightly to the side and he whispered, his breath crossing the distance between us with dangerous warmth while his eyes gleamed coldly, "Did you cut your hair?"

Feeling very much like the bug under a microscope I resisted the temptation to swallow and nodded silently, already beating myself up for my natural fear.

A slow smirk pulled at his lips and my heart froze as he reached out with his hand and grabbed a strand of my dark hair, his fingertips ghosting across my flushed skin.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"Michael."

The voice was quiet and controlled but it ripped through me with the intensity of a scream and I took a step back from his hand as the owner of the voice stepped up next to Michael.

I watched a silent exchange of annoyance pass between the two tall, beautiful people, before the person who saved me from Michael turned to me with a flawless smile, "I'm sorry. Was he bothering you?"

Isabel Evans, with her fair perfect skin, her red lips, curvy body and golden hair, was the person every girl in the school envied. She was the girl every boy lusted for in the privacy of their thoughts.

Giving in to my need to swallow in an effort to lubricate my dry throat, I nodded and said perfectly evenly, "Yes."

Her smile was smooth as apology reached her brown eyes. "I _do_ apologize. He has the intelligence level of a monkey."

I knew that I was supposed to smile at this. I knew it was supposed to be a joke, maybe even an attempt at lightening the situation, but I didn't find anything amusing about the tension in the air.

With an almost imperceivable nod of her head, she grabbed Michael's elbow and pulled him away, all through the motion managing to look perfectly collected.

"What was that?" Maria, my best friend, breathed behind me.

"Michael Guerin," I answered and felt the personality that seemed to have escaped me just now crash back into my body.

"What did he want?" Maria asked, confusion coloring her voice.

I managed a casual shrug of my shoulders and pulled my bag out of my locker, slamming the door shut with a loud clang before I turned to face Maria. "Nothing."

As I started to move down the hallway towards the large front doors, I was only partly aware of Maria hurrying to gather her things to follow me as my thoughts were running all over the place.

Michael Guerin and Isabel Evans were two of the members of the infamous mysterious trio of Roswell High. The third one was Max Evans. They were known as a trio because they were always seen together in some form or another. They were named mysterious because no one really knew anything about them. This was strange in itself. The trio was not new to the school. In fact, they had lived in Roswell for the last ten years or so and had been part of the Roswell school system since third grade.

Yet no one really knew them.

They kept to themselves, only making bare minimum effort to blend with society.

Well, except for Max Evans.

The third member of the trio, Max Evans, was nothing like the two people he spent most of his time with. While Michael and Isabel kept mostly to themselves, Max was part of almost every school event – as long as it involved some type of sport activity. While Michael and Isabel were rarely seen at parties, Max had never missed a single one.

Just then the front doors opened and the object at the front of Liz's thoughts sauntered through the doors, followed by a train of guys and beautiful girls.

Mesmerizingly beautiful, Max Evans was like poison to the females of Roswell High. They followed him like bewitched puppets, almost tripping over themselves for a second of his attention.

The boys, the well-trained muscular jocks following Max, were keeping up a conversation about the latest game while Max's eyes slowly scanned the school hallway.

My steps had faltered somewhat when he had crashed through the doors (not even _I_ was immune to his magnetism), but I quickly recovered with a snap of my back and by locking my gaze in front of me so that my eyes would avoid contact with his at all cost.

A shiver raced down my spine as I felt his gaze brush over me and I resisted the urge to look in his direction while I put my hands up against the front doors and pushed them open.

Maria was at my heels the moment I reached the outside and I felt relief flood me as the fresh air saturated my starving lungs.

"Are you going to the party?" she asked breathlessly.

I frowned. "What party?"

It was impossible to miss Maria's loud exasperated sigh. "The Halloween party."

I sighed. "I don't feel much like a party."

"Oh come on," Maria tried. "It's the party of the year."

Having reached my car, I fumbled through my bag for the key. "You say that every year, Ria."

"It's true every year," Maria said simply.

I brushed a hand through my hair, the unconscious act bringing forth the recent memory of Michael Guerin touching me and I shivered. "I don't think I'll go this year."

She looked at me incredulously and flung my own words back into my face, "You say that every year, Lizzie."

"They freak me out," I said, wanting her to get off the case. She knew how uncomfortable Isabel, Max and Michael made me and the Halloween party was held at the Evans' resident every year. It was a success every year.

Or so I've heard. I had yet to attend one.

It was apparently the only real social event that Isabel and Michael were involved in, which possibly made it even more alluring.

After discussing the matter with several people at school, including lengthy discussions with Maria, I had come to the understanding that I was the only one to really be uncomfortable around the three beautiful people. Everyone else saw them as unattainable, at another level. But they were not scared by them, rather, careful out of respect. As if they were royalty that always had to be treated properly.

Maybe that was what made me so uncomfortable; the fact that no one treated Max, Michael or Isabel like normal teenagers.

"There's something wrong about them," I told Maria and she rolled her eyes at the comment.

That was not anything new coming from me.

"What's your latest theory?" she asked with a small smile as I opened the passenger door and put my bag in the seat.

"They're vampires," I answered seriously and rolled my eyes as she laughed. Of course it sounded ridiculous but, "They're too perfect!"

She continued laughing at my defensive tone and said between breathless giggles, "I thought vampires combusted in the sun. Would they really move to the _desert_ if they couldn't stand the sun?"

I slammed the door shut and walked around the front of the car, opening the door to the driver's seat. I couldn't help but smile and offered, "Yeah, that's where my theory ends as well. Plus, they seem to age just normally. Vampires don't age."

Maria snorted, shaking her head in amusement. "You're impossible."

"I'm just gonna stay at home and watch 'Moulin Rouge'," I said, getting in behind the steering wheel.

Maria sighed, the laughter dying from her eyes. "Again? Man, Liz. To have a social life, you should at least _try_ to make an effort."

I frowned at her, wondering where she got the notion that I wanted a social life from. "Who said anything about wanting to be social?"

I reached out to close the door when Maria's hand stopped me. She bent down, looking at me with serious green eyes. Speaking with the voice of an all-seeing psychic, she murmured slowly, "Mark my words, woman. You're gonna end up as an old maid with 149 cats."

"So be it," I replied and pulled the door closed.

While I reversed out of the parking space, I started searching through my bag after my iPhone with one eye on the road.

"Where is it?" I mumbled, while my hand came up with various pens, post-its and paper clips. But no phone.

Rolling the car to a stop, I shifted out of reverse and into drive and my attention was momentarily on the bag while I tried to peek through the small opening into the bag in attempt to spot the white smart multifunctional device.

"Gotcha," I said triumphantly as my fingers touched the headphones which were plugged into the phone and as I started to pull it out of the bag, my foot automatically pressed on the gas.

My eyes were only a nanosecond behind, but when I looked up my heart jumped into my throat and I reflexively slammed the brakes into the floor. My body jolted slightly with the sudden stop and I was left staring at the boy that had appeared in front of my car.

I had almost run over Max Evans.

As he started walking around the car, his eyes locked with mine, I was painfully aware of the burning air whooshing through my windpipe.

He stopped next to my door, gazing down at me through the window, his face a blank slate. But his eyes were burning into me, dark as two pieces of charcoal.

I swallowed harshly.

I'm not sure how many seconds passed, but suddenly his eyes softened while a slow grin spread across his lips. Cocking his head to the side, his knuckles rapped against the window; the sound ripped through my body.

I kept on staring, my knuckles white as my grip on the steering wheel tightened further.

Shaking his head in something that might be amusement, Max moved his hand in a circular motion, obviously gesturing for me to wind down the window.

I didn't really feel like it.

But I seemed somewhat obliged, since I had almost run him over after all. Maybe I should apologize or something. I mean, I just almost killed the most beloved person of Roswell High. If that had actually happened the students of Roswell High would most likely lead the witch hunt which would end with me being burnt at the stake upon my capture.

"Liz, please," he said then, his voice subdued through the glassed barrier between us. I tried to ignore the way his voice caressed my name.

Holding my breath, I leaned over and slowly rolled down the window. The fresh moist rainy air hit my face, along with his scent. I tried my best to ignore how his scent made my mouth water and my heart skip a beat.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice a tad harsher than I had planned.

He raised an intrigued eyebrow at the hostility in my voice and said, "You almost ran me over."

There was no accusation in his voice, but I couldn't help feeling like I was suddenly on trial. "Sorry. I didn't see you."

He chuckled at this and my eyes narrowed. What was so funny about that?

"You should pay more attention to the road, Ms. Parker."

The amused twinkle in his eyes annoyed me. "You shouldn't be standing in the middle of the road, _Mr. Evans_."

One edge of his mouth drifted slightly north. "Touché."

"Did you want something?" I snarled. "Or were you just hanging around, waiting to be run over?"

"I'm having a party," Max said and I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes. He said it as if it wasn't general knowledge. As if his party wasn't described in detail under 'Party' in the dictionary.

I raised an eyebrow and tried my best to look apathetic. "Really?"

His eyes glinted and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Everyone's invited," he continued.

"How nice," I said. I wanted to pull my eyes away from him, but I couldn't. I wanted to roll up the window, put the car in drive and get away from there. But I couldn't. Something in his eyes stopped me. Maybe it was the warm hue of his irises. Maybe it was the sensual shape of his upper lip. Maybe-

I shook my head to clear my mind of those thoughts. What was wrong with me?!

I would _not_ allow Max Evans to work his magic on me.

"You should come," he said, a small smirk twisting his lips.

I had the clearest feeling that he knew what had just run through my mind. I shifted in my seat again.

"I don't like dress-ups," I said more confidently than I felt.

"You don't have to dress up," Max said slowly and started tracing the top of the window pane with his index finger. "You can come as Elizabeth Parker."

I stared at the slow movement of the finger, suddenly feeling very hot.

 _Get a grip, Parker!_

I snapped my eyes back up to his face and all the strength appeared to have left my voice as I spoke again, "What's the fun in that? I might as well not come."

He put his head to the side, regarding me with penetrating eyes. I swallowed.

"Have you ever been to my party, Liz?"

"No."

"You should come."

"I don't really feel like it."

"It's gonna be fun."

"I have plans."

"Really? What are you doing?"

"None of your business."

He smiled and a tremble went through my body. "Please. Come. Just this once."

I was falling into his eyes and, before I could stop myself, I felt my head nod in agreement.

My protesting thoughts were loud in my head as he smiled and stepped away from the car.

 _Damn it, damn it, damn it_

"I'll see you there," Max said and I grimaced at him.

 _Damn it._


	2. TWO

**TWO**

Maria knitted her eyebrows together and stared at me in wonderment. "What are you supposed to be, Liz?"

I smiled sarcastically and twirled quickly in front of Maria. "Isn't it obvious?"

Maria put her head to the side as if the changed angle might enlighten her. "Are you even dressed up at all?"

I disappeared into her bathroom, answering her as I rummaged through my humble collection of hair accessories, "Of course I am."

"Liz," Maria said slowly. "You're wearing jeans."

"And a red top," I added as I got a hold of the black hair clip I was searching for.

"It's a Halloween party," Maria said. "You have to dress up. It's like part of the deal."

I smiled at her. "What if I put on lipstick?"

Maria's face fell. "Liz! You can't be serious. You don't have a costume?"

"Of course I do," I answered calmly. "I'm wearing it."  
Maria's mouth hung open as she in dazed shock slowly shook her head from side to side. I could just imagine the thoughts going through her head at the moment. How people would be talking about us just because I couldn't dress up properly. This was Maria's thing. Maria lived for costume parties. I hated to disappoint her, but looking over her furry leopard costume I didn't regret saying no to that trip to the costume store with her earlier that week.

"You're wearing your normal clothes!" Maria almost screeched.

I rolled my eyes. "Sheesh, Maria. Calm down." I turned around and retrieve a 12 inches long thick wooden stick that had been pointed in one end, courtesy of Alex Whitman. I held the stick up in front of me, pulled my lips back and tried to look as intimidating as possible. "What about now?"

Maria just stared at me.

"Oooh, vampires beware," I drawled out dramatically.

Maria kept staring at me. Her eyes had taken on a glazed empty look.

My hands flopped down in resignation. "Don't you see it?"

"It's a stick," Maria said slowly.

"I'm a vampire slayer," I said, waiting in anticipation for the coin to drop.

"You're a vampire slayer," Maria repeated slowly.

"Yeah," I nodded excitedly. "You know, like Buffy. But I'm not Buffy. I'm Faith. You know, the other vampire slayer. Because Buffy's blonde, Faith's brunette. It just works better. Otherwise I would have to wear a wig and I'm, you know, going for the least amount of dress up possible here."

Maria nodded slowly. "I can see that."

I sighed, smiling at her. "Come on, Maria. Don't you get it? I'm gonna go and slay the vampires. At least _you_ should get it."

Maria sighed deeply and sank down onto the bed. "Why can't I have a normal friend?"

"You have a friend with super strength," I said simply, shrugging as I put the home-made stake down on the table. "I think that's pretty cool."

Maria fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, mumbling something along the lines of that she should've forced me along to the costume store. I disappeared into the bathroom and picked up the dark red lipstick I had borrowed from my mom.

"Why not?" I shrugged and started to apply the blood color to my lips.

Maria's excited exclamation caused me to drop the lipstick into the sink. "Ooh! I know!"

"Maria, geez," I mumbled, locking at the trail of red the lipstick had left on the porcelain of the sink.

"You can go as a cat!" Maria said, jumping up behind me, excitement shining in her eyes. "It's never too late to become a cat. You have black clothes, right? And eyeliner? We'll just draw whiskers on you…and your hair is already dark which is perfect. You'll be a black cat. And we can make a tail out of a scarf or something. It's simple. But excellent."

I met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "I'm going as Faith."

She sighed loudly. "The vampire slayer?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"No one will get it."

"I don't care. I'm going as Faith."

"Everyone will bug you with questions about who you're supposed to be. And you hate being bugged."

"Can't you just be happy that I'm going at all?"

She looked skywards and took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes. Of course I'm happy. But couldn't you make an effort to make your first appearance at this – the biggest party of the year – something spectacular?"

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "By going as a cat?"

"That's your own fault for not preparing better," Maria remarked snidely.

I turned around and grabbed Maria by the shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. "Maria." She nodded, anticipation in her eyes. "I'm going. As. Faith. The. Vampire. Slayer."

Maria threw her hands up in the air. "Ugh!"

I turned and faced the mirror, reaching for the black mascara. At least Faith was hot. If I was going to a party I had been tricked into going to, at least I would be hot.

* * *

One hour later we were making our way down the stairs to the ground floor, which happened to be the infamous CrashDown Café in Roswell. I grew up among alien dolls and alien-shaped straws, learning to become a stand-in waitress for my parents' business by taking orders like _Third Encounter Muffin_ and _X-fries_. As if growing up in Roswell wasn't enough, I had to have the presumed alien crash of Area 51 shoved down my throat.

The swinging doors to the _Staff Only_ area in the back swung open to reveal the tall smiling Alex Whitman. His smile was almost as stretched out as his arms as he exclaimed, "Ladies! You look beautiful."

Taking a closer look at me, he blinked. "Damn. You're hot!"

I smiled, struck a seductive pose as I pouted my lips sensually while my innocent voice asked, "You think?"

"Hell yeah." He pulled me into his side and hugged me possessively. "You're gonna be the most gorgeous vampire hunter there."

I smiled and lifted a pointed eyebrow in Maria's direction.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh come on. Of course Alex would know what you're dressed up as. He's the wood shop master and was probably the one that made that stupid stick for you."

"Hey, that's my work you're degrading," Alex protested.

"Seriously, Alex," Maria said. "I think you got a bit falsely distracted." Striking up a pose similar to the one I had just made, Maria battered her eyelashes and said, "Who's the sexier one?"

Alex shook his head. "I feared this was gonna happen…"

We looked at him in anticipation.

"So I promised myself not to answer any questions like that."

We both sighed in frustration and exclaimed in unison, "Oh come on, Alex!"

He put both arms up in front of him to ward off any protests. "No. The last time you got me to answer that question, you," he pointed at Maria who tried her best to look oblivious, "drenched my toothbrush in wasabi."

Maria snorted. "Ha. That was funny."

I nodded. "Yeah, that was pretty funny."

"So I'm not getting on anyone's bad side here," Alex announced.

"Come on, Fleximan," I pouted.

He shook his head firmly. "Nah. End of discussion."

"Speaking of Fleximan," Maria mused, "Are you gonna make your move on the beautiful Isabel Evans tonight?"

"As per annual tradition," Alex answered simply.

I smiled. Maybe going to the party wasn't going to be so much of a mistake. "I can barely wait to see that."

Maria smiled. "Aww, look Alex. She's starting to look forward to the party."

"Just to see Alex make a fool of himself," I corrected.

Alex flung a hand across the left side of his chest, a dramatic expression of hurt scrunching up his face. "You're one mean woman, Parker."

I shrugged, adding causally. "It's just… I've heard so much about these attempt of yours… Finally I get to see it in person."

Alex rolled his eyes and changed the topic. "So, are we ready to rock'n'roll, ladies?"

I thought about my 'Moulin Rouge' DVD then. About curling up in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn and day-dreaming about the Prince Charming that didn't exist.

Instead I was forced to go to a loud party overflowing with drunk, horny teenagers in weird outfits.

I sighed. "Yeah. Why not."

Alex hugged me to his side, quipping excitedly. "That's the spirit!"

* * *

Let me tell you about Max Evans' house. Well, it's not really a house per say. It's more like a mansion. Or a palace. I guess, compared to my parents' small apartment above the restaurant, it was a palace.

In this grand palace there's a princess – let's call her Isabel – and a prince – let's call him Max. They think they own the world. They think they are oh so attractive and hot. Especially with those piercing honey colored eyes that tend to just rip into your very core-

"Liz!"

Judging from Maria's less than amused expression, she had been trying to get my attention for quite some time.

"You're already completely zoning out on me," she complained and sighed frustratedly when my response was a sweet innocent smile.

Resuming my efforts of ignoring Maria, I looked up at the large building through the car window and felt a trickle of fear run down my spine. Was it too late to grab the car keys from Maria's unsuspecting hand, push her out of the driver's seat and take off at brow-raising speed to a destination far, far away from this place?

"Liz?" Maria was looking at me with bored impatience.

I sighed and pushed the car door open. "Let's go."

Alex was already outside of the car, making a beeline for the front door. If it wasn't for the nervous insecurity immobilizing my cheek muscles, I probably would've smiled at the eagerness of that boy. But smiling was the last thing I felt like doing.

 _Stop being nervous!_

My feet felt cemented to the ground as I looked up the long winding stoned path leading up to the pala- house. To my disappointment, I realized that my fears were completely legitimate. The place was overflowing with drunk teenagers (how could they _already_ be drunk?) and the fact that they were wearing odd and - for the greater part - misfitting costumes didn't make them look any less ridiculous.

I might just be the coolest person there.

I distractedly watched Alex high-five a lanky all-legs guy from his band, shaking my head at the lack of surprise I felt when the two guys completely missed each other's upraised palms. Alex stumbled but was saved by his current sobriety. His friend was less lucky, falling quite literally on his face.

"Fuck, man, you okay?" Alex said, fumbling to get his long arms in order to help the friend back on his feet.

"I suggest we don't hang out with Alex at the party," Maria murmured in my ear, also having witnessed the failed greeting.

"Yeah," I shrugged, "Whatever."

There was a pressure over my chest which I was currently trying to ignore. Maybe I was having a heart attack. Maybe being among so many dumb and wasted adolescents would do that to you?

"Isn't this great?" Maria all but squealed next to me while I forced back nausea.

"Fantastic," I mumbled and tried to control the shaking of my hands.

"Oh, come on," Maria sighed. "Don't be such a party pooper."

Party pooper? I wordlessly raised an eyebrow at my blonde friend, which earned me an eye roll in return.

"You came."

And I almost ran over Max Evans. Again. Which would have been a lot more embarrassing this time, considering that there wouldn't be a car between us to prevent our bodies from connecting.

A felt instant heat rush up my neck and face at the intrusive image of Max Evans' body connecting with mine-

I blinked and forced myself to look at him. He was looking down at me, a secret smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes burning on my face. I refrained from squinting, trying to haul in my breath. I was once again unnerved by the feeling that he had somehow been able to read my mind just then.

He proceeded to slowly rake his eyes down my body ( _Oh my God_ ) and I tightened my hands into fists to prevent the trembles from winning the battle of wills raging inside of me. This must be what it felt like to be in front of a hungry lion, licking his lips in anticipation of devouring you.

Maria's voice made me jump, but I couldn't look away from him.

"Of course we did," she replied next to me and I could feel her pointed look at my profile practically screaming, _What the hell is wrong with you?!_

I tried to gather the heart from my throat and raised my eyes to meet his gaze straight on as his eyes had completed their careful study of my shape and had returned to my face. Ignoring the shiver that raced through me at the contact between our eyes, I answered steadily, "This party is really surpassing my expectations."

I was relieved to hear that the trembles hadn't made it into my voice, that I could still raise my chin in a strong defiant motion, and hoped that I was able to send out an air of nonchalance that I wasn't feeling in the slightest.

I could almost smell Maria's peppermint flavored breath as she stared at me with her mouth hanging open. I was embarrassing her. Well, she couldn't claim that I hadn't warned her. She shouldn't bring a reluctant guest to one of her favorite parties.

Something glinted in Max's eyes, before his lips bent in a smirk. "I'm pleased to hear it."

"Is there anything else to this party but getting intoxicated while in preposterous costumes and making a fool out of yourself?" I asked and let my eyes do what they had wanted from the second Max Evans had blocked my field of vision. Return the once-over.

I felt an uncomfortable chill run through me as I took in his black dress pants and the black cape hanging off his shoulders. I noticed the stiff erected collar behind his neck, the blood red silk material adorning the inside of that collar, the white shirt, the white vest and the white bow-tie. I let my eyes wander to his face and forced myself to see past his piercing eyes, noting the eyeliner which had turned his incandescent eyes darker.

I swallowed.

Dracula. Max Evans had dressed up as Dracula.


	3. THREE

**THREE**

Right about then I wished for telepathic abilities so that I could talk this fact over with my innocent fair-haired girlfriend. Did anyone except Maria know that I hypothesized the mysterious trio of Roswell High to be dark creatures of the night?

From the smirk on Max's lips - _those sensual lips_ \- I had the strange ominous feeling that he knew. That, in dressing up as Dracula, he was sharing a private joke with me.

I jumped as Maria started talking next to me and realized that I had disappeared into my thoughts for awhile, the world around me dimming away. "You're Dracula."

I looked at my best friend and wondered, due to her ability to pick up on my recent thought, if she might be able to read minds after all.

"Too predictable?" Max asked, his voice dry with a touch of nonchalance, while his eyes had yet to leave my face.

I tremble of disconcerting excitement moved through me.

"That's funny," Maria acknowledged, "because my friend Liz here happens to be dressed up as your enemy."

Max quirked an eyebrow and I felt his eyes burrow through me as they, if possible, turned a shade darker. A shiver of danger rushed through me.

 _Stop staring at me!_

Max leaned in and I could feel his warm breath flutter across my mouth as I went completely still. "You came here to kill me?" he asked darkly, his voice lowering an octave.

I don't know why, but his question scared me. Maybe it was because of the irony of him threatening me when I was the one feeling like the prey.

"You better watch your back," I answered, my eyes flickering to his lips which were only half an inch from mine, and I was surprised at the strength of my voice. I felt anything but.

Amusement flickered in his eyes and his lips seemed to caress the words of, "I will."

With that, Max Evans straightened and looked at Maria - breaking eye contact with me for the first time since the start of the meeting - with the smug airiness that he was known for to the rest of the school. "There's booze inside. Help yourself."

"Cool," Maria smiled happily.

Max looked at me again and paused for just a second before leaning in close again.

I froze.

His eyes flickered to my lips again, as mine had done just seconds before, and I felt the air around me zing my skin as he slowly licked his lips.

It was strange, the conflicting emotions he managed to create in me. Goosebumps were erupting across my entire body while my heart got strangled with nervousness as he bypassed my mouth and moved his lips close to my ear. So close that I could feel them brush against the outer curve of my earlobe.

"Later, Vampire Slayer."

Normally - if it had been anyone else but Max Evans - I would've rolled my eyes at the cheesy rhyme and most likely pushed him away for rudely invading my personal space. But Max Evans was not just anyone else.

He was walking away before I had a chance to register that he was no longer standing next to me.  
"What did he say?"

I turned to the globe-sized eyes of Maria and shrugged, "Who knows? He's not the most eloquent guy."

Maria narrowed her eyes at me and said, "Hmph," with disapproval. "Is there something you're not telling me, Lizzie? About Max Evans?"

I frowned, still trying to get my feelings under control. I was both warm and cold, trembles replacing shivers, the small hairs on my arms standing at attention, my heart beating hard in my chest and adrenaline making my mouth feel dry.

"That he's a vampire?" I tried and frowned. My voice was breathless and weak.

Maria didn't seem to notice as she stared at me, placing her hands in the curve of her waist as her green eyes flashed with annoyance. "He's not a vampire, Lizzie. Would you stop that? You're seriously embarrassing me. What if someone heard?"

I shrugged. "He's even _dressed up_ as a vampire. It wouldn't be such an odd statement given the circumstances."

Maria apparently ignored my defense and continued, "He was _staring_ at you."

 _So she noticed, huh?_ I felt the unwelcome flush returning to my cheeks.

"I think he has a thing for you," Maria said, her face relaxing in certainty. "Yep, that's definitely it. For some reason, Roswell High's most eligible playboy has a thing for the only girl who hates his guts."

Okay, so now Maria had gone insane too.

I looked at her with irritation, "Max Evans?" and pointed to my face, "Me?", emphasizing the unlikely combination of us as a couple. Come on, he was - as Maria so clearly had just described - a hot and attractive player with the arrogance to suffocate a nuclear fire while I was the intellectual and I-would-rather-stay-at-home-and-read-books-than-go-to-parties girl. Why on Earth would he possibly have a thing for me?

"He didn't take his eyes off you," Maria continued, looking at me as if _I_ was the insane one. "And how he leaned in to talk to you, "Maria trembled in an exaggerated shiver of pleasure, "Ah, I could almost taste the electricity."

I stared at her. At a loss of words. What the hell was she insinuating? Really? Couldn't she see that Max Evans hadn't tried to 'seduce' me, he had tried his damnedest to intimidate me.

"You're sure there's nothing you'd want to tell me? Something you want to confess? A secret kiss in the Eraser room? A rendezvous at the restaurant after hours?" Maria licked her lips in anticipation, her eyes shining brightly with the hope of indirectly experiencing a secret love story.

In a way, I was almost sad to disappoint her. But hell would freeze over before there was a love story between Max Evans and I.

"You're right," I answered with a sigh of forced resignation and watched my friend's eyes widen in surprise. I lowered my voice subtly, leaning into Maria so that she could hear my secretive words. "Every night I dream of Max Evans…" Maria's eyes grew larger, "Of how I crawl into his bed at night, pull the covers off his chest, straddle his waist, raise my arms above my head," I lick my lips as a finish with a seductive timbre, "and impale his heart with my wooden stake."

"Ugh!" Maria groaned frustratedly and pulled back from me. "I hate you."

I smiled. "Believe me, Maria, when I say; there's nothing going on between me and Max. He gives me the creeps. I don't know what he was doing earlier, but it was not pleasant."

Maria shook her head, "Whatever you tell yourself to make you survive the impending passion."

I rolled my eyes. "You should stay away from the erotic novels, Ria. They're getting to you."

Maria inhaled deeply before linking her arm with mine. "Let's explore the alcoholic beverages, shall we?"

I glanced over my shoulder, having the feeling that I should keep track of Max so that he couldn't surprise me again. And consequently drink my blood, kill me, abduct me or whatever.

But Max Evans was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

There's something to be said about drowning your sorrows in alcohol. It actually kinda works. As long as you keep the intake up, of course, allowing your brain to never have an opportunity to emerge from the alcoholic daze. Of course, I couldn't really claim that I was drowning 'sorrows' per say, more attempting to drown the feeling of being watched. The Evans' palace made me paranoid, made me constantly look over my shoulder, only to never find anyone watching. I quickly figured out that alcohol had a tendency to put a damper on those feelings of being followed, tempting me to drink more. And more and more.

Except for making the surroundings dim into a blur and having your thoughts get lost in a cloud of 'I don't really care', alcohol _does_ unfortunately also cause your bladder to fill up.

"I'll be right back." The words were hard to speak and I swayed on the spot as I gave my friend a meaningful look.

Maria's eyes were rimmed with the redness of intoxication as she tried to focus her eyes on my face. She was just as wasted as me. Her head moved in something that was probably meant to be a nod, but which instead resulted in a staccato rustling of her chin which seemed to make her slightly motion sick as she grabbed onto the edge of the table next to her.

I laughed and my garbled declaration failed miserably in being heard over the base of the booming music, "You're so drunk!"

Maria looked up at me with incomprehension, frowning as she tried to decipher what I'd said and decide if I was laughing with her or at her. She decided on the positive route and smiled languidly while hitching her thumb up, "Sure!"

I snorted before turning to locate a toilet, slammed the edge of the table into the middle of my thigh, cursed colorfully while trying to figure out how to get around the table without repeating the self-injury, and was then on my merry - unstable - way up the stairs.

Stairs were hard, I realized when I attempted one step at the time while pressing my tongue to the corner of my mouth in concentration.

"Hooray," I mumbled to myself as I reached the landing of the second level. I let my hand drift along the wall, upsetting some framed family photos with my drunken incoordination. A photo of Max Evans swayed dangerously on its hook and I quickly (as quickly as I could) put both hands on the edges of the frame and calmed its nervous jitter. I stared into the dark smiling eyes of the man in the photo and annoyance rushed through me.

"I'll deal with you later, mister," I threatened with a red-painted fingernail and giggled at myself before taking a wobbly step down the corridor.

There were doors to my left and right - this was obviously not a small house - and I mumbled, "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," to myself, my finger pointing at a closed door to my right at the exclaimed 'moe' and fumbled with the door knob.

I really needed to pee at this point; the lower part of my abdomen was hurting painfully from the fluid retention. The room was pitch dark and I searched for a switch along the wall next to the doorframe.

 _Nope, not the bathroom_ , I grimaced along with my thoughts as the room was bathed by a dim light revealing a bed, a dresser and a desk. The walls were covered in posters of various artists I didn't recognize and there was not one, not two, but three guitars propped up against the wall next to the bed.

I was honestly about to turn around and leave, instantly recognizing that this was someone's bedroom, but my eyes got caught on photo frame on the dresser. It was - yet another - photo of the boy who had invited me to this party. I glanced around the room, wondering if I was indeed in Max Evans' bedroom, before looking back at the photo.

There was something enticing about looking at the depiction of Max's face. I had never seen him smile like that. Carefree. Happy. The smiles he assaulted me with were either devious smirks or grins dripping with sexual innuendo. I frowned as the photo blurred and moved in front of my alcohol-affected vision, and I grabbed onto the edge of the top of the dresser as a wave of nausea hit.

"Why can't you be this nice young man in real life, huh?" I mumbled disappointedly at the photo, tripping over the words ( _why does my tongue feel so weird?_ ) almost expecting the photo to laugh at me and give a smart-ass answer.

But instead of an inanimate object answering, I heard steps outside the door - which I had left slightly ajar - and self-preservation tried to force itself through the thick fog in my brain.

 _Hide!_

I swallowed against the nausea that was threatening to push my latest drink back up and obeyed the rational voice in my head. My refuge behind the desk was embarrassingly elephantine as I tripped on the edge of the carpet and landed hard on my side, my elbow slamming against the wooden floor.  
I bit back a cry of pain just as the door was pushed open and I saw two pairs of feet enter the room. High red heels and flat white sneakers.

"What the hell happened?" a voice growled and was accompanied by a third pair of shoes - black ones.

"I cut myself," a female voice answered, impatience in her voice, and I felt myself get colder by the second.

I knew those voices. Isabel Evans and Michael Guerin.

"Watch it, you're bleeding all over the place."

And that was Max Evans. I sighed with my inside voice. Of course it was the three creatures of the night. I had, after all, entered Max's room.

"Did anyone see?" Michael asked and I watched his black shoes pace quickly back and forth across the carpet which had tripped me barely a minute earlier.

"No," Isabel answered and I could see more than her feet now as she sank down on the bed.

"Are we alone?" Max asked, stepping up in front of Isabel and peeking around the corner of the doorway. I could see his face, looking in the direction of Michael, awaiting confirmation to his question.

Michael stepped up to the door and closed it, cutting off the sharp sound from the party going on downstairs. "Yeah."

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, sweat breaking out on my forehead, and my hands feeling clammy. Even though I hadn't done anything wrong, there was something about the situation that made me feel afraid to be there right then. Hiding behind a desk when they though they were alone.

"Good," Max answered and I couldn't help but inch a bit further forward, to get a better view of Max and Isabel.

He took her hand , stretched her arm out and I swallowed, my head swimming, as I saw the red trails of blood running along her underarm, drops of blood dripping off her elbow. My fingers dug into the edge of the carpet, trying to keep my grip on reality.

 _I'm gonna be sick. I'm gonna be sick. I'm gonna be sick._

I had problems with blood on a regular day. Fighting back alcohol-induced nausea wasn't helping the issue.

For some inexplicable reason, I looked up at the couple again, accidentally getting an eye full of the deep gash across her wrist. I instantly bit down, hard, on the inside of my bottom lip to fight for control over my body.

At Max's quiet words of, "Look at me," I did just that, even to the request wasn't addressed to me. I looked up and saw Max and Isabel gaze into each other's eyes.

 _If they weren't siblings I would bet my arm they-_

But my thought ran cold as Max pressed his free hand across the deep wound. Then there was a light-

 _Oh my God…_

a light being emitted from where his palm met Isabel's skin-

 _Oh my God…_

I wasn't breathing. My body had stopped functioning. I was frozen on all four, crouched behind a desk, staring at the whole skin - where there had just been a deep wound - that was revealed after Max removed his hand.

As Max let go off Isabel's arm and she smiled up at him with a satisfied, "Thanks," my body became acutely aware of the lack of oxygen due to my inability to breathe. My body decided to indiscreetly solve this problem by forcing me to gasp - loudly - and scramble backwards, as the sound surprised me, making my hip collide with the edge of the desk.

My not so subtle reaction lasted only for a fraction of a second after which I pressed my fist against my mouth to stop any further sound. But by then, the room was completely quiet.

One could hear a pin drop.

Then I heard Isabel's fearful whisper, "Oh my God…" followed by Michael's much harsher assessment of the situation with a, "Fuck," which was finished by Max's sharp question of, "Who's there?"

I bit my bottom lip, being dizzy from the massive amounts of adrenaline mixing with alcohol in my system, and remained still for a couple of seconds. Maybe if I didn't move, they wouldn't see me. Maybe they would go away.

I never had a chance to reflect over what I had just seen. How Max obviously had made Isabel's wound completely disappear. I vaguely considered that I was hallucinating ( _maybe someone had slipped something in one of my drinks_ ), before a hand painfully encircled my upper arm and tugged.

A cry of pain died on my lips as Michael pulled me out from behind the desk, up on my teetering feet. I quickly looked around me, at every face staring at me, noting the paleness of Isabel's features behind her heavy make-up, the murderous black glare of Michael and the-

I swayed on the spot as my eyes met Max's. Intense as usual. Burning into my very soul. But there was no smirk this time. No grin, chuckle, amusement or wink. The dark eyeliner seemed to emphasize fear.

Fear? Why would Max Evans be scared? He wasn't the one standing in front of three intimidating people, having just witnessed something that shouldn't be.

"Liz," Max whispered and a flutter of heat brushed my heart. No one had ever said my name like that. In a whispered reverence of regret and pain.

"Max," I answered with a croak, because I didn't know what else to say.

Michael's grip on my arm tightened, forcing my eyes away from Max's confusing face as I felt another dizzy spell claim me.

"What did you see?" Michael hissed.

The floor started to tilt and I stumbled in attempt to right myself. The last thing I heard before my world went black was Max's voice, calling my name. With the image of Max Evans healing Isabel Evans' arm, I sank to the floor as my consciousness flickered out.


	4. FOUR

**FOUR**

"Liz? Liz? Can you hear me?"

" _Oh baby, you're bleeding."_

I looked down at my scraped knee, feeling the steering of the bicycle jut into my thigh as it laid in odd angles on the ground. The blood was running down my leg and I swallowed, my field of vision shrinking with building panic.

My mom's face hovered in front of the horror, grabbing my chin to make me look at her. "Are you okay, honey?"

"What did she see? Did she see you?"

"Shut up, Michael. She might hear you."

"No… no, she's unconscious. I can't get in."

There were soft touches against my cheeks, across my forehead. They were warm but fleeting. I struggled to pull myself out of the darkness, but it was too hard.

"How much has she had to drink?"

"How the hell should I know?!"

" _Look!" a 7-year-old Maria called out, her fingers covered in white paint. As I watched, she put her fingers to the pink wall of my bedroom and traced a white line over the wallpaper. "I'm making the wall glow."_

Fear grabbed me. "No, Ria. They will see."

Maria continued to paint. "It's beautiful. Look!"

"Mom will be angry," I tried.

The edges of the surroundings glowed brighter, forcing me to squint in the brightness. It only lasted for a couple of seconds before it snapped back to its original. Well, almost.

A 7-year-old dark-haired boy had taken Maria's place. He turned to look at me with a small secretive smile lingering on his lips. "I can make it glow, too."

Without a trace of paint on his fingers, the top of the boy's index finger started to glow white and I felt the ground move beneath my feet, my hands tremble in fear, as his finger created long squiggly lines on my pink wallpaper.

When he was done, he took a step back and smiled at me brightly. "See?"

I looked at the wall and his 'masterpiece'. His magic finger had painted three letters. L.I.Z.

"Liz?"

The voice was so familiar, but simultaneously unknown. That voice was usually mocking, arrogant or amused. In that one short word I could only hear worry and fear. It made me fight harder to get back, to push away the darkness.

"Should we take her to the hospital? She might need to get her stomach pumped?" Isabel's voice. She also sounded concerned.

"And risk her blabbering about what she saw?" Michael. He was not concerned. Well, not about _my_ well-being at least.

"Why didn't you search the room?" Isabel again.

"Oh excuse me. I didn't know I was supposed to look behind desks." Michael, tense and angry.

"We need to get her off the floor." It was that worried voice again. Max.

I had troubles regaining full consciousness, but still felt his touch - in every cell of my body - when he pushed his arms between the floor and my slack body and scooped me upwards. I felt the warmth from his chest as I was pressed against it, felt the heat from his skin as my head lolled into the crook of his neck.

"What if she saw? Could you make her forget?"

Against the background of Isabel's agitated voice, my body was slightly jostled along with the feeling of flying, before softness graced my back and Max's body pulled away.

"I don't know," Max mumbled. "I've never done it. Maybe you, Iz?"

"I don't think so… God, Max. What are we supposed to do? What if she tells someone-"

"No one will believe her," Michael sneered.

"She's smart, Michael. Everyone knows that. She, of anyone, will have credibility. I've seen her command an entire classroom during presentations with something as mundane as explaining the mechanism of a beetle's life cycle."

"So you think that she's going to go up in front of a class and tell the tale of how she watched Max Evans heal a wound-"

"Shh," Max's abrupt fearful hiss interrupted Michael's tirade. "She still has ears." There was a pause, before Max added softly, "There's still a chance she didn't see anything."

"Then what scared her? Something scared her, Maxwell."

There was mere silence in response and in that silence the previous nausea I had fought a war with was rearing its ugly head again. The teasing of my gag reflex pushed me into stark awareness, flinging my eyes open.

I instantly got caught in Max's dark eyes as I pressed my hand against my mouth.

"Sick," I mumbled with a grimace, trepidation at what was about to happen causing sharp panic to race through me and I quickly moved into upright position. I watched Max's eyes widen in understanding as I forced out, "I'm gonna throw up," and tried to swallow back the catastrophe.

Max disappeared from my field of vision and my gaze flickered to Isabel's, who was staring at me as if I was her executioner. Pale and frightened.

I made the mistake of looking to my left, into Michael's black eyes, and my stomach content immediately pushed upwards with frightening intensity.

As it spilled over my lips, Max was suddenly there, his hand in my hair, trying to catch the tresses before they fell into the line of the vomit, and when I didn't feel the gastric juices on my hands or down the front of my shirt I realized that Max was holding a bin under my chin.

"It's okay. Get it out," he murmured and I concentrated on the scorching heat from the pads of his fingers against my scalp where he had scrunched my hair up as my throat burned with the heaves.

"I think _I'm_ going to be sick," Isabel mumbled.

"Deal with it, Maxwell," Michael commanded and his ice-cold presence left the room. I got the distinct feeling he wasn't only referring to me throwing up.

"I'm sorry," Isabel whispered as I gagged again. "I can't stay."

And so we were alone.

I breathed heavily, my stomach was cramping and droplets of sweat were breaking out on my forehead, as I stared unseeingly into the black bin.

"Are you done?" Max asked and I felt mortification spread up the sides of my neck. His voice was back. That nonchalant, arrogant and bemused voice. Maybe I had only imagined the softness of his voice earlier; the concern, the worry, the care.

I nodded slowly, feeling incredibly self-conscious with droplets of vomit burning with humiliation on my chin and Max Evans holding a bin in his hand with the consequence of my drinking spree. I couldn't look at him as he removed the bin, his hand falling away from my head making my hair cascade down my shoulders. The large curls in my normally straight hair - made to go with the costume - fell forward, creating a curtain around my face which I could hide behind as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Don't you know your limit?" His voice was tense and annoyed and my tired mind tried to make sense of what he meant. My limit?

"Is this why you never attend parties, Ms. Parker?" Max continued and I felt his eyes on my profile, burning against the hair that was trying to hide the expressions on my face. "Because you can't control how much you drink? Because you lack self-discipline?" He was seated on the edge of the bed, one foot on the floor, the other leg bent onto the bed, his knee almost brushing mine.

"No," I whispered weakly, all strength having left my body. "It's purely to avoid you." In the light of my exhaustion, I felt myself getting worked up about his line of questioning. Who was he to judge my actions? What gave him the right to scold me like some child? It was after all, _his_ party - a party with free alcohol supplied in great amounts. If he didn't like his guests to get drunk, he shouldn't throw these parties to start with.

Come to think of it, I could easily blame this whole disaster on him.

"Hm," he answered curtly, quietly, before adding, "Just me?"

I turned my head to look at him and felt fear rush through me. Something deep inside of me, in the most primal instinctual parts of my being, was telling me that he was dangerous. That I should get as far away from him as possible. I had the feeling that there was something I should know, something I had forgotten. Something about Max Evans that was crucial to my existence.

His face was dark in the soft light of the bedroom, the small hint of make-up around his eyes accentuating his Dracula-impersonation as shadows darkened his features. My breath got stuck in my throat as his eyes locked with mine, piercing into my head.

"Y-yes," I stuttered, my heart doing staccato movements, "Just you." Goosebumps were spreading across my body and my heart was getting tired from the constant rhythm changes.

The right corner of his mouth lifted marginally as he breathed a calm and understanding, "I see."

My eyes drifted to his lips, to that beginning of a smile, and a memory flashed on a photo of a smiling Max. Before the rational and normally sober part of Liz Parker could stop me, I had asked the question of, "Why don't you ever smile? Like in the photos? The ones in the hallway? Like you're happy?"

Something flickered in his eyes (shock? surprise? fear?), before a veil came down shutting off all expressions in his eyes. They turned cold and dark - like Michael's. I automatically angled my upper body away from his.

But he followed my movement, leaning into me with one hand positioned next to me on the bed, the shape of his impressive upper body, with that large Dracula collar posed behind his neck making him seem even larger and more intimidating, looming over me until he had chased all warmness from my body. There was nothing in his eyes. Nothing. I could normally read a lot of emotions in those brown eyes of his (even if they weren't the most pleasant emotions), but now they were just empty. It scared me more than Michael's threatening dark eyes had done when I had regained consciousness earlier.

 _Why were they angry with me?_

Why was I here?

My memory contained big dark holes and as I struggled to breathe in the cold presence of Max looming over me, I desperately wished for Maria to come and rescue me. Or anyone. If just someone could come and open the door so that I wouldn't have to remain one more second in this confusing and surreal setting.

"What did you see?" Max Evans asked slowly, his voice low.

 _What?_

"What?"

I wet my dry lips and clenched the bedspread under my hands in my fists as I leaned back even further, trying to put more distance between my interrogator and me.

Rain. He smelled like rain and the zing from summer thunderstorms.

"Before. When you were hiding. In my room." He raised a pointed eyebrow and I saw a flicker of the Max that usually taunted my emotions, "Behind my desk. You saw something, didn't you?"

I frowned, desperately searching my mind, my evasive memory. Had I? Had I seen something? I couldn't even remember how I got into this room. The last thing I know I was looking for a toilet-

As the thought landed on the reason for venturing up to the second floor to start with, the matter of my full bladder rushed to the front of my mind and screamed - yet again - for attention.

"I need a toilet," I answered, swallowing.

He frowned. "You're feeling sick again?"

"I need to pee," I whispered, figuring that my maximum for humiliation was already reached. I looked away from his face and repeated, "I _really_ need to pee."

I felt his eyes move over my face as I became aware of the noise from the party still going on downstairs. My attention was riveted back to him as his legs moved, his knee briefly brushing against mine, making my breath hitch, before he stood tall next to the bed, holding his hand out for me.

"Come on," he said simply, eyes calmly on my face.

I shook my head at his offered hand and started scooting off the bed. "I can do it."

He folded his arms across his chest and took a step back, leaving me space to get off the bed. "I'm sure you can."

I ignored the hint of amusement in his voice and placed my feet on the floor. Of course, as Max probably already had anticipated - considering his amused statement - my legs weren't prepared for my weight, folding underneath me like a stack of cards.

His hand was around my upper arm in a second and an odd combination of fear and desire flushed my body at the contact. Irritation was not far behind as I pulled back harshly, amazingly managing to not fall over, as I ripped my arm out of his grip, and bit out a "I _said_ , I can do it."

He held his hands up in front of him in wordless surrender, mirth playing around his lips. I grabbed onto the cover of the bed, trying to get my bearings, regain my balance, and felt myself grow even angrier as I could practically feel him laughing at me. Even though there was no sound between us but my erratic breathing.

"Very funny," I grumbled.

"I didn't say anything," Max objected evenly.

"I can practically hear your thoughts," I mumbled, before straightening and squaring my shoulders.

I looked at him just in time to see his eyes widen in mock trepidation. "You can?"

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed as another wave of lightheadedness swirled through my head. "Toilet. Please."

My eyes sprung open at his chuckle, but his merriment didn't quite reach his eyes. They were conflicted, almost haunted, as he pointed at the door. "This way, my lady."

The walk to the bathroom was one of the worst walks I've ever done. The floor was unsteady, Max's eyes were burning a path down my back and his presence was making me feel both protected and terrified.

But wasn't that how vampires operated? Wasn't that what books and movies had always tried to teach us? That vampires were designed to be irresistible, even against our own innate warning bells of danger.

"To your left," Max said behind me as I passed a door left ajar.

Without a word I pushed the door open and reached for the switch, at the same time as Max did. Our hands collided and I quickly pulled my hand back as a jolt passed between us.

"Sorry," Max mumbled behind me and for some inexplicable reason decided to explain the phenomena. "Must be the cape. Static electricity."

 _Uh-huh, sure_ , I thought, but couldn't be bothered to assign more thoughts to it than that. Instead I let my eyes peruse the bathroom in front of me. It was huge. I could probably fit my bedroom into it and throw in half of the living room. It was completely white, from floor to ceiling. There was a large white bathtub in the center of the room, a toilet to my right opposite two sinks, and in corner there were-

"You have _armchairs_ in the bathroom?" I asked incredulously as my gaze fell on the two small white fluffy armchairs next to a round table. "What for? You invite your friends to watch you while you go to the toilet? Or do you have meetings in here? Drink coffee?"

I could feel him standing behind me as a took another step into the stark whiteness.

"No."

I froze as I felt his breath behind my ear sending shivers down my neck, raising the small hairs on my arms as he answered my questions with a voice dripping with seduction that shot straight to the core of my body, "That's where I could be sitting were you to take a bath, Ms. Parker. You know, keeping you company. To offer my assistance…" his voice dropped lower "…in certain areas."

My mouth went dry at his suggestion and I barely managed to turn around without tripping, to glare at him. My glare faltered as my eyes collided with the laughter dancing in his dark eyes. It wasn't the implied intimacy in his gaze that confused my mission to put him on his spot, but the warmness in his eyes. The hint of happiness and laughter, of all walls behind his eyes being gone. I swallowed. His eyes were a new level of intimacy that his stereotypic words could never get close to.

"And what makes you think that I would take a bath in front of you?" I asked, keeping my voice level, crossing my arms over my chest as I squared my shoulders.

He caught a tendril of my hair between his fingers, catching my breath along with it, as his fingers lightly brushed my cheek while tucking the elusive hair behind my ear. "You always do. All of you." He licked his lips slowly, his bemused eyes dropping to my mouth. "Sooner or later."

I frowned, letting annoyance rule over the desire he was pushing at in the pit of my stomach, "All of us?"

Amusement danced in his eyes, a smirk claimed his sensual lips as he brushed his fingers along my jawline on their return from tucking my hair in place. "All of you girls."

I flushed at his outright arrogance, at his self-absorption and narcissism, and took a step backwards, away from his enticing touch. My eyes were dark with anger - and a sliver of disappointment - as I stared at him coldly, "Well, I'm not one of your girls. And I never will be." Raising a trembling hand to point at the door I added curtly, "If you excuse me. I need some one-on-one with the toilet. And _you_ are not invited."

He chuckled and gave me a mock salut, his body straightening as his clicked his heels together. "Aye aye, my lady." He walked backwards out of the room, his eyes clinging to my body as he repeated the slow once over of my body he had done earlier that night, and with a hand on the doorknob, he added, "Let me know if you need some…uhm," his eyes heated as his eyes stopped on my lips, "…assistance."

Anger heated my cheeks - and something else that I would rather not admit. "Get out!"

He grinned and stepped out of the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him.


	5. FIVE

**FIVE**

"She doesn't remember."

"How can she not remember? It happened just twenty minutes ago."

"She's really really drunk, Iz. She fainted. I would bet she has major blackout issues right now."

"We can't trust that. Would she really admit to seeing what she obviously saw? I mean, come on. It must've freaked her out. There's really no question about that when she tried to escape the room by crawling past us, is there? If you saw what she saw, would you let that person know that you knew? Like Michael said, she's smart. She knows to keep her mouth shut until she gets to the police station and tells them everything she knows."

My steps slowed as I moved down the corridor. The conversation was obviously not meant for my ears - or anyone's - and I had the sinking feeling that it was about me.

The person who was withholding how much she knew only to later take it to the…police (?) was undoubtedly me.

I frowned, trying to sift through my muddled brain which was starting to clear up. Throwing up a great part of alcohol and excreting another part in your urine would slowly bring your body back from the worst of the intoxication.

I knew that something big had happened earlier. That much was clear from how Max had reacted, demanding answers out of me that I didn't have. Unfortunately for me, Max was telling his sister the truth right now; I had no idea what had happened, what Isabel was so afraid that I had seen. I cursed my eager overconsumption of alcohol for making me forget and with every overheard word from that room at the end of the hallway, my interest was exponentially piqued.

What I had witnessed must have been a major deal.

What were the rich kids hiding? Had I walked in on them snorting a line of cocaine? Someone having sex with someone they shouldn't? Selling counterfeit products?

"Calm down, Iz. I'll keep an eye on her, okay? If she knows something, I'll know."

My heart missed a beat at Max's serious promise to his sister and I was instantly conflicted as to if I should be elated or distraught that Max was going to 'keep an eye' on me from now on.

I reached the doorway from which the conversation was being carried and pushed the door open. The gorgeous siblings were facing each other, Isabel's arms folded defensively across her middle and Max's hands running frustratedly through his dark hair. They both paled as they whipped their heads towards the door as it moved to let the light from the hallway into the dark room, revealing me.

"You do know that 'stalking' is illegal, right?" I asked, with a raised eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe.

"Liz," Isabel breathed, her face turning an even whiter shade of pale, and fear was creeping into her eyes before she looked at her brother, her lips tightening along with the arms around her middle.

 _She's gonna break herself in two_ , I thought.

Max didn't meet his sister's worried eyes, which were searching out his for comfort, but kept looking at me, one emotion after the next sifting through his eyes. It was impressive to watch. How the ever-so-in-control-Max-Evans completely lost control of his emotions, momentarily wearing his heart on his sleeve.

"And," I continued, when the rich ones seemed to have lost their ability to speak, "if you are so worried that I actually saw something that I shouldn't mention to anyone, you probably shouldn't discuss it where someone else might hear."

There was panic in Max's eyes, before they went cold, his mouth settling into a thin closed-off line. I ignored how his emotions were affecting me - making me ache to comfort him, to put him at ease, to reassure him that I wouldn't tell his secret (even if I knew what it was) - and continued lightly, "It might just be a good idea to wait to discuss your secrets until _after_ all of the millions of guests downstairs have left. Since, you know, I'm probably not the only one to occasionally wander off to the second floor in the search of a toilet."

"You really don't remember?" Isabel asked, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and I was once again struck by her visible vulnerability. Just like her brother, Isabel was not normally known to show weakness.

For some reason, whatever had happened was scaring the living daylights out of Miss Isabel Evans and sympathy curled around my heart making my eyes soften with sincerity as I replied, "I understand that it was probably something important, something you really don't want anyone to know." I shrugged. "I don't really care what it is you're messed up in. That's your business." I took a step into the room, unwavering in my attempt at easing Isabel's fears, "I don't remember. Honestly."

I felt Max's contemplative gaze on me, sending warm shivers down my spine. Isabel held my eyes desperately, unaware of the tear that was sliding down her cheek.

I chose to not acknowledge it, keeping my tone light as I hitched my thumb in the direction of the door and concluded with, "I'm just gonna find Maria now; return to that infamous party of yours."

Getting no reply, I hesitantly worried my lower lip for a second before turning and heading for the door. His warm and steady hand around my upper arm made my breath hitch and my body reached a halt while desire relentlessly beat through it. How was it that as the effects of the alcohol were slowly ebbing, his touches caused an increasing level of desire in me? Didn't the absence of alcohol usually make people less horny, not the other way around…?

I swallowed back my thoughts, afraid that he might be able to read them on my face, as I turned to look at him. A small gasp floated across my lips as I discovered his proximity, his face a breath from mine, his eyes shining with gold. I could feel his body heat spread into mine, the place where his hand was holding onto my arm burning.

"Thank you," he said softly and goosebumps spread from top to toe.

"For what?" I whispered back.

His eyes fell to my lips and a new emotion flickered through his eyes before he returned my curious regard. "For making her feel better."

My voice automatically matched his in softness as I explained, "It's the truth."

"Yeah," he said and I frowned as he looked almost disappointed, before dropping his eyes to the floor and taking a step back. "I hope so."

Why did I get the feeling that Max Evans _wanted_ me in on their secret?

With that, he released me from his grip and my knees felt wobbly as I exited the room.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Maria stared at me with large wide-open eyes. Intelligence and sobriety had returned to her face. I figured that Maria had also started to recuperate from her drunken spell.

"Where were you?" she continued. "I was looking all over for you. Were you upstairs? I heard no one is allowed upstairs. Did you know that? I've always wonder why that is. Such an odd rule."

I couldn't get a word in, nor a letter, even if I had tried. But I've learnt a long time ago that there was no real use in trying. Maria gripped my upper arms, her eyes moving over my face, as if trying to pull the answers out of me. "You look different. What happened? Did something happen?" She frowned, tilting her head to the side. "How much did you have to drink anyway?"

I opened my mouth to answer (after all, Maria had been just as drunk as me when I had left her), but was cut off.

"I just saw Max and Isabel coming down the stairs. Where you up there with them? Alone?" Her eyes looked ready to pop out of her head, when something on my face apparently answered her question. "Oh my God. You were! You were alone up there with them! What did you talk about? What did you do? Did you see their rooms? I bet they have the most incredible rooms." Maria sighed dreamily, "Oh, what I wouldn't give to see Isabel Evans' room… She's so amazing. Don't you think so?"

I inhaled deeply and shrugged, shutting my mouth again. No need to try and get a word in when Maria was happily engrossed in one of her private monologues.

"I would happily kill someone to have her wardrobe," Maria mused. "And that body."

"Do you have a crush on Isabel Evans, Ria?" Alex asked, as he came up behind Maria with a raised eyebrow.

"Haha," Maria said, not amused. "Very funny."

Seeing my chance at getting two cents in, Alex and I looked at each other and exclaimed in unison, "Denial!"

Maria narrowed her eyes. "Aren't you the comedians." Her eyes drifted in the direction of Isabel Evans and added simply, "It's just that-"

"'Her beauty is out of this world'," Alex and I recited in chorus, a phrase Maria had used way too many times.

Both Alex and I knew that Maria harbored no romantic feelings towards Isabel. Maria was as straight as an arrow. Her admiration of Isabel wasn't even based in envy or jealousy, it was the simple awe of one starstruck woman.

It was just too much fun to tease her about it than not.

Maria's eyes had turned dark and stormy at our grins and her full luscious lips tightened. It looked as if she was about to turn and walk away, when her eyes flashed triumphantly and a slow smile spread across her lips.

 _Uh-huh, that's not a good look._

"Alex," she purred, hooking arms with our mutual tall male friend. "I have it on good authority that Max Evans has a thing for our Ms. Lizzie here."

Alex's eyes widened in surprised interest and my heart skipped a beat as I felt heat brush my cheeks.

"Really?" Alex drawled, eyes twinkling as he appraised me as if suddenly seeing me in another light.

I scoffed, not even convincing myself of my nonchalance. "She's pulling your leg, Al."

"No no," he said slowly, his whole face shining. Alex always loved a good piece of gossip. "Tell me more. What has made the elusive attractive bachelor of Roswell High finally realize what a gem our little Lizzie is?"

"Shut up," I said quietly, which was drowned out by the loud music around us.

"You should've seen how close he was standing to her before," Maria added, leaning into Alex conspiratorially. "How he whispered in her ear. What bedroom secrets did he whisper, Lizzie?"

"Is Evans unaware of Lizzie's animosity towards him?" Alex mused. "He mustn't be aware that she has deemed him as her life nemesis." Alex grinned at Maria and I rolled my eyes at their attempt at discussing me without including me in their conversation.

"Hey, I'm standing right here," I grumbled.

"I think that's part of the challenge - part of the attraction," Maria answered Alex's musings. "I think Max is tired of all those other girls always throwing themselves at him. It's much more fun with someone that goes out of her way to actually avoid him. But when their paths occasionally intersect…" Maria blew her cheeks out as she brought her hands together only to let them fly apart with a "BOOM."

Alex eyes widened theatrically as his eyes glittered. "Really?"

Maria nodded. "Explosive. Which only proves that no one," Maria grabbed my cheeks and pouted her lips while she addressed me as a child, "can resist this face." I pulled her hands away, annoyed. Maria grinned. " _No one._ Not even Max Evans."

"And speaking of…," Alex said and hitched his thumb into the direction of the kitchen. "Look who's staring at her right now."

I froze as I looked in the direction of Alex's hitched thumb and caught Max's eyes as he leaned casually against the doorframe of the large kitchen behind him. The light from the kitchen illuminated his shape, darkening his face, but there was no question that - out of all the people milling around the living room - he was looking at me.

"Oh my God," Maria cried and I noticed her little jump of joy out of the corner of my eye. "He so is! Liz, Liz, Liz…"

She grabbed a hold of my arms and angled me towards her when I wouldn't acknowledge her fast enough. My dazed eyes tried to focus on her as I imagined myself feeling the caress of his gaze on my body across the room.

"Liz, do you know what this means?" she asked excitedly.

My silent reply and dumbfounded expression must've told her that I didn't have a clue as to what she was getting at.

"This could be your ticket into the exclusive clique of the school. This could be your connection to-"

"Isabel?" I asked and raised an amused eyebrow.

Alex didn't disappoint, immediately jumping on the train Maria had tried to steer away from herself earlier. "Oooh, so _that's_ what this is all about. Your solution to get close to Isabel…" He pointed at her winningly. " _I knew it!_ "

When I'd managed to steer the attention away from me and had easily succeeded in engaging Maria and Alex in a banter, I casually looked over my shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. But my body already knew the truth before my eyes confirmed it.

He was gone.

* * *

He had told his sister that he would keep an eye on me. And even though I had informed him at the party of the illegal nature of that action, Max Evans surely kept his eye on me.

It came to a point where I almost expected him to be hiding under my bed or jump out from behind my shower curtain. But no, he wasn't in my way, stealing my air or hogging my personal space. He was just… _there_. A constant presence in the background of my ordinary regular life.

Maria plopped down beside me on the plastic chair at one of the many colorful tables of the school cafeteria, unceremoniously banging her tray against the table surface. "What's up with him?"

I looked up at her breathy question, traced the annoyance in the words, and followed her gaze towards The Vampire Table (as I liked to call the table always occupied by Isabel, Max and Michael during lunch). I vaguely noted Michael leaning back on the chair, balancing it on its back legs, casually chewing the end of a straw as he pretended to listen to Isabel. Isabel, who with her shiny golden hair braided in an intricate side braid, ending over her shoulder, her glistening pink lips and bewitching twinkle in her bright eyes, was engrossed in a vivid monologue (based on the fluid movements of her hand gestures).

It didn't take my eyes long to find their way to the dark-haired boy seated opposite Michael, like a moth being drawn to a light. He was leisurely poking the salad in front of him (when did a teenage boy eat salad for lunch?), while he seemed completely oblivious to the conversation going on around him. The reason for this might be that he was looking straight at me. I quickly averted my searching gaze as our eyes met, hating myself for the blush that instantaneously spread across my cheeks.

"He's 'keeping an eye' on me," I grumbled sarcastically, in reply to Maria's rhetorical question.

Maria's eyes were ploughing into my head, trying to forcibly tear my thoughts apart to offer her an explanation. I had realized a second too late that perhaps I shouldn't have said that.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maria asked, her voice terse. "Has he actually told you that he would keep an eye on you? And why would he do that? I mean, of course, if he had a crush on you - which isn't all that unlikely, mind you - it would be socially acceptable to stare at you from afar, but why do I get the feeling that this has nothing to do with hearts and flowers?"

I put my sandwich down on the plate. I had lost my appetite.

Astutely avoiding my best friend's questioning eyes, I unconsciously worried my bottom lip as I stared out over the desert landscape stretching out in front of the school. "It's nothing, Ria. They were just fooling around."

I could practically feel her frown. "'They'?"

I shrugged and tried to keep my tone light. "The vampires, of course."

Maria didn't approve of me calling the most beautiful people at our school vampires. She never had, she probably never would. The air darkened around us with annoyance as Maria continued prodding, "Cut the BS, Liz. Why is Max Evans keeping track on you?"

When I didn't answer, she continued - a trace of fear creeping into her voice, "Did something else happened at the party? He didn't…" she swallowed loudly and squeezed out the words with a croak, " _force_ himself on you, did he?"

My head whipped up to look at her sharply. "Of course not!" I watched her visibly relax at my vehemence and I clenched and unclenched my fists before taking a deep breath and supplying the information of, "I overheard a conversation between those three and they are afraid that I will reveal it to the rest of the world or something. I think that's why Max is watching me; trying to stop me from spilling the beans."

I was trying to ignore the way Maria's eyes were practically bulging out of her head. But it was getting increasingly difficult. Especially since she looked ready to explode if she couldn't get the next words out fast enough, "What was it? What did you hear?"

I smiled at her sweetly, almost regretfully (what Maria wouldn't kill for possible gossip like that), and shrugged with a light, "I don't remember."

"You-" Maria spurted and there was a small twitch in the corner of her eye as she squeaked, "You don't remember?"

I shook my head, not sure of how I would handle this Maria who was about to dissolve into a pile of disappointment and anti-climax. I was tempted to string her along for awhile, tease her, but for some reason I didn't really feel up to it. Almost as if I knew that whatever I couldn't remember wasn't a laughing matter. Why else would Max be so intent on watching my every move - if the ramifications of someone knowing weren't huge?

"Sorry," I mumbled, and chanced a glance in Max's direction. I wasn't surprised to meet his eyes this time. But this time I lingered, perplexed by the dark look in his eyes.

 _Can he hear our conversation?_

A chill rushed down my spine and then I chuckled to myself, turning back to Maria. Of course he couldn't hear us. He was on the other side of the canteen.

"How can you not remember?" Maria asked, gripping my right wrist with both of her hands, her nails digging into my skin.

"I was really really drunk," I answered and looked pointedly at her grip, "That kinda hurts, Maria."

Maria let me go with a sullen, "Sorry."

My expression softened as I looked at Maria and took in her disappointed expression. Maria lived for gossip - especially gossip about her favorite trio. "Believe me, girlfriend. You'd be the first one I tell if I remembered."

A weak smile graced her cherry glossed lips, "You really don't remember, do you?"

I shook my head. "Not a single word."

Maria chuckled and shook her head in amazement. "You really were completely hammered that night, weren't you?"

"Parties don't suit me, apparently," I answered, smiling at her.

"Nah-uh," she shook her head and pointed at me. "Don't even try to use that as an excuse to avoid all future parties."

I bit my lip to drown my smile. "I wouldn't dare."

* * *

My whole body broke out in tingles as I felt his warm breath brush against the shell of my ear, whispering through some loose tendrils of my hair.

"I would give my right arm to hear what you were discussing with Maria just now."

His body heat was wrapping around my back as I swallowed, forcing down the kindling of desire to let my indignation take control.

"That's none of your business," I answered and had to clear my throat around the thick blanket of emotions his proximity elicited.

"There's nothing you needed to confide in her, then?" he asked, his voice soft, caressing my innermost secret yearnings.

I emptied the contents of my tray into the trash, placed the empty tray in the pile of companion yellow trays to the side and turned to face him. I mentally gulped as my eyes connected with his, his face within kissing distance. Except for an experimental kiss between my friend Alex and I when we were twelve, my lips hadn't met a boy's lips. But right then, with his amber eyes framed by dark long lashes studying my face, an expectant semi-smile on his well-defined lips, and the the softness of his bangs against his forehead, I was overwhelmed by the need to kiss him. To feel those somewhat smug lips on mine.

I was instantly appalled by my weakness to his charms, obviously reacting just the way he was intending me to. I consciously squared my shoulders and straightened my neck, in a half-hearted attempt to appear more confident and determined than I felt. I had a feeling that whatever I did, he knew. He knew that I was only putting on an act. _I_ knew this because of the glint in his eyes as I turned around and because of the hint of smugness replacing that curious smile.

But that didn't stop me from trying.

"I still don't remember, if that's what you're insinuating," I bit out, putting my hands on my hips and assimilating all possible irritation through my eyes at him.

The smug slipped off his face, only to be replaced by contemplation, as he reached out and touched the tendril of hair that had escaped from my pony tail.

"You're really beautiful, Ms. Parker," he mumbled, caressing my hair between his fingers and I felt myself go beet red with heat, dropping my eyes to avoid the unexpected open emotion in his eyes.

What's up with this guy? It was frustrating me to no end that I couldn't categorize him any longer. He was no longer the simple potential bloodsucker or the third member of an unattainable beautiful triad. In the last three days, which included the party, Max had shown so many sides of himself that my head was spinning. And I was pretty sure he never intended for most of them to be seen. Ever since the party, he seemed to have lost some of his strict control and air of nonchalance, instantly attracting my attention. Who didn't love a good mystery?

And Max Evans surely was a mystery. Before the Halloween party, I had him pegged as a two-dimensional superficial guy, who had the face of a model and unfortunately was very well aware of that fact. I had heard the rumors of him being with girls, all ranging from the rumor that he never went beyond kissing to the outrageous sickening detailed rumors of hot steamy sex. Considering his behavior, I'd always assumed the second rumor to be the correct one. A person didn't carry themselves like that if they weren't a player.

A fact that should have been even more cemented in light of his recent behavior, his invasion of my personal space, his insinuations, and his rather intimate touches (at least considering that we were basically on an acquaintance level). Interestingly enough, the more words he spoke to me, the more half-threats he threw in my direction and the more acts of vague intimidations played against me, the more his mask seemed to be slipping. I found myself getting more peeks of the smiling guy in the family photographs in his home.

So… even if I were dying of curiosity to figure out what secret I was supposed to be hiding, in a way I didn't ever want to regain that memory. Because what if that memory was so horrible that it would ruin the conflicting image I had of him, taint the intrigue of his personality.

And then his hand left my hair and his fingers brushed along my jawline, and coldness seeped into my soul. I froze. So did Max. I was still not looking at him, but I could feel the worry and fear in the small tremble of his fingers against my skin as an evasive fragment of a memory fluttered through my brain. Something that screamed at me to step away from him. To get away from his hands.

 _His hands. Danger._

I took an abrupt step backwards, my lower back crashing into the pile of trays, which skated to the floor like a big thick pack of cards. We both jumped at the loud sound of plastic trays hitting and spilling out across the floor, but we didn't turn towards the incident that had hushed the conversations of the rest of the canteen.

Max's hand was frozen, mid-air, where my face had been just a second ago. His face was pale and there was fear with a chilling touch of panic in his eyes, tempting me to wrap my arms around him and pull him in for a hug. His expression screamed 'Lost little scared boy' at my maternal instinct and I wanted to protect him and ease away his worries.

Instead my mouth opened and bleak words were whispered, "I have to go."

I turned and felt his hand brush against my arm, "Wait."

His voice was unrecognizable, pleading, frightened. I didn't wait. I didn't turn.

I ran.


	6. SIX

**SIX**

I dreamt of hands. Of _his_ hands.

I dreamt of them touching my arm, my face, my body, in whispered reverence. As if his hands were trying to talk to me; tell me something with deep urgency.

My eyes followed them across the parts of me that weren't covered by clothing, making the small hairs on my skin stand up, goose bumps erupt and nerve endings send signals of pleasure to my brain.

I tried to look up at him. To confirm that the hands belonged to whom I suspected. But I couldn't look away from his hands. Those strong, masculine hands with their soft touch.

I desperately yearned to look into his eyes, to see the gold flicker inside the amber, the black darken his pupils, the myriads of emotions blend into one another.

Just as I thought I had won back control of the dream, a soft yellow light spread out from beneath his palms. I felt my whole being gasp in fear, my brain freezing in recognition of a memory that I had forgotten.

As I mutely followed the trail of glowing yellow across my skin the dream flashed to the past. To his house. To that party.

My breathing escalated as my heart beat tripped and I watched the same light, from those same hands, flow across the bloody injury on someone else's arm. It didn't last long, and when he removed his hand, the glow was gone.

So was the injury.

I bolted out of the dream, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead, my breathing shallow and erratic, my hands fisting the sheets of my bed.

I remembered.

* * *

Max Evans was not at school that next day. Or the day after.

On the third day without Max Evans' almost constant presence following me, my hands were shaking with nervousness and a faint sense of panic was settling into my very bones. The details of the dream were deeply imprinted into my memory and I needed to talk to him about it. To confront him. I needed to confirm that my crazy dream was just that. A crazy dream.

But the longer he was gone, the more I started to rationalize the facts of the dream. In some way it made sense that Max having some magic powers would be the big secret that he and his friends were trying to hide. A secret big enough to warrant Max stalking me every day since that party. So why not? Maybe he actually had powers of some kind. Maybe he actually was a freak.

What frightened me most, though, was that I might have been right all these years. That there was something odd and peculiar about Max Evans and possibly his friends. Maybe they were not _vampires_ , which I had so vehemently claimed to anyone that had the energy to listen, but there was possibly something X-filey about them.

On the other hand, I didn't want Max to return. I was afraid to face him, afraid of what he might do now that I had possibly figured out his secret.

"What is wrong with you?"

Maria's irritated voice brought me out of my thoughts. My gaze flickered from the apple which I had been holding in my hand, staring at it unseeingly for the past ten minutes, to my friend's smooth, light fawn face.

"Huh?" I mumbled, putting the apple back down on the tray.

Maria narrowed her eyes, brushing a loose blonde curl behind her ear with hurried impatience. "You've been acting weird ever since…" She looked at me closer, as if my face was some kind of puzzle that she needed to solve. Her eyes brightened somewhat as she added, "Well, ever since Max Evans left."

So she had noticed, huh?

I couldn't hide the surprise on my face and I groaned inwardly at her triumphant smile. She wasn't going to leave the subject alone now.

The smile stretched across her lips as she asked, "You thought I hadn't noticed?" She released me from her attention and picked up the sandwich from her tray. Balancing the multilayered meal between her long slender fingers, she added, "It's not unusual, you know. For him to disappear for a couple of days." She took a big bite of her lunch and seemed to ignore how my eyes widened in mixed feelings of intrigue and surprise.

Why hadn't I noticed that? How could I not notice that someone in our class took some days off from time to time?

As if reading my unspoken questions, Maria answered around a mouthful, "Dou were doo busy twying to avoid dem to notish, I guess." She shrugged.

I looked away, my eyes automatically drawn to the table where Max used to share his lunch break with his shadows - Isabel and Michael. Isabel and Michael were there, but the third chair looked abandoned and lonely without Max's presence.

I guess, when you work so hard on trying to not bump into the trio, you wouldn't care too much if one of them disappeared.

At least, that had been the case before whatever had happened had happened this weekend.

"What intrigues me," Maria said next to me, placing her half-eaten sandwich back on the plate and brushing some mayonnaise off the corner of her mouth with her index finger, "is that you've finally noticed."

I forced myself to roll my eyes in casual indifference. "The guy's been following me around like some pitiful homeless dog these last couple of days, Ria." I raised a pointed eyebrow. "Is it really that odd if I would notice his sudden absence?"

Maria looked at me closely again, letting her gaze linger on my face a second too long for comfort and I shivered at the prospect of her possibly being able to see into my brain with that penetrating gaze of hers. With an interested "Huh", she turned away from me and picked up her sandwich again.

"What?" I asked, getting annoyed. Her one syllable had provoked me with its tone.

"Nothing," Maria mumbled, but she couldn't hide the pleased smirk on her lips before she sank her teeth into her sandwich again.

I crossed my arms protectively across my chest and unconsciously leaned away from her, feeling judged and on edge. I couldn't keep the defensive tone out of my voice as I asked, "So, what does he do? Why does he go missing on occasion?"

She put the sandwich back down and briefly looked at me out of the corner of her eye before focusing her attention on the 'Vampire'-table. "Why the sudden interest?"

I groaned, "Just tell me, Ria." I was really not up to her games. I knew, and she knew, that when it came to school gossip, she was the Queen. Of course, she wanted to rub that in as much as possible.

She picked up a napkin from the tray and systematically and meticulously wiped her mouth with it, before meeting my increasingly antsy face.

"Well," she said slowly, airily, "The information being given on that topic - by his two accomplices, mind you -" She gestured in the direction of Michael and Isabel, emphasizing with a wink the probable degree of credibility of that information, "is that Max Evans is helping his father out at work."

I frowned. What kid, in today's society, would take days off school to help their parents out? It would probably not be so odd fifty years ago, if he had been a farmer's boy or something. But Max Evans lived in a castle. Not a farmhouse.

"Isn't his dad a surgeon?" I asked, perplexed. What in the world could a sixteen year old boy contribute at work with a father who was a surgeon?

Maria nodded slowly, her eyes wide with excitement at - for once - having my full attention when she was retelling gossip. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"I mean, what parent - especially a well-educated one - lets his son miss several days at school to 'help out' at his work?"

Maria scrunched her nose up in agreed disbelief. "I know. Right?"

My dream flashed in front of my eyes; a hand knitting skin together, removing blood. All blood drained from my face at the realization as my mind put one abstract clue with another.

 _What if Max was healing people at the hospital?_

Maria obviously hadn't noticed my sudden lack of facial color, since she continued on the brink of explosive excitement, "And get this; Michael and Isabel also have days off."

My attention was back on my friend, my silent revelation only a few seconds prior subdued to mere trembles in my hands, "They help out their fathers too?"

Maria's face furrowed in concentration. "I'm not sure…" She picked up a can of Fanta and opened it with a sizzle. "I don't know what Michael's parents do, but Isabel - of course - share the same parents as Max."

"How often does this happen?" I asked, following the movement of her bringing the can to her full lips and swallowing three big gulps of carbonated sweetened liquid.

She shrugged. "A couple of days per month."

"For how long?" I asked tensely. When her face smoothened into blankness, I added, "How many consecutive days are they gone each time?"

"He should probably be back again on Monday," Maria said lightly, setting the can down on her tray.

Monday. Today was Friday.

It was going to be a long weekend.

* * *

"Damnit," I grumbled as a freshly made club sandwich skidded off the plate I was holding and ended up in a terrible colorful catastrophe of vegetables, bread, mayonnaise and meat on the linoleum floor.

"You're off your game today," Maria's voice declared simply as she walked past me, brushing an elbow into my side to tempt me to smile along with her.

But there was nothing funny about the situation. When I was younger, I had enjoyed working at my dad's restaurant. I had enjoyed helping out, making myself useful, getting a small salary. But that period of my life was long gone.

Basically, that period of my life disappeared when I hit puberty and started developing breasts and a sense of mortification about wearing rather short turquoise dresses and a headband with antennas on my head. Even though I found most guys at school ridiculous and not much worthy of my time, I failed to convince myself that their opinion of me didn't matter. I couldn't fool myself to believe that they didn't make fun of my dress or how I had to serve them greasy food practically every day.

I was pretty sure that dropping food on the floor didn't help my case. Something that was emphasized by the snickers and sporadic applause I received as I fell to my knees in front of the mess I've made and started cleaning up.

Maria was right. Of course. I _was_ off my game. My dream featuring glowing hands haunted me every night, making my sleep quality interrupted and poor. Which resulted in me becoming even more on edge than the day before. Because, the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that the dream was true. That it was a memory.

And even though Maria would claim that I was one of the most rational, logical and scientific people on the face of the planet, my most rational, logical and scientific explanation to Max's behavior these last couple of days was that he possessed magical powers. Like some freaking wizard. Or someone blessed by God himself. Even him being a vampire had taken on a more serious and plausible quality.

Which was certainly ridiculous. But there was no other way to explain why it _made sense_ for Max to be able to heal. It would answer all my questions and explain all the suspicions I've had about him over the years.

I made a half-hearted attempt at brushing back a strand of my hair behind my ear with the side of my hand while getting to my feet with a broken sandwich on a plate in my right hand and a dish rag in my left. Making a half-turn to get the plate onto the counter behind me, my body slammed into a hard wall.

Well…

I looked up.

Not a wall exactly.

Amber-colored eyes locked with mine and my body slightly rocked at the impact. His hands grabbed onto my upper arms and a jolt of heat went through me.

His face was impossible to read as he stared at me intensely. Then his face softened and amusement formed small crinkles around his eyes.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he said, his voice husky and an unwelcome shiver raced through me.

I narrowed my eyes. "Maybe you should watch where you're going."

He quirked on eyebrow in something akin to amusement. " _I_ should watch where I'm going?"

"Where have you been?" I felt cold as soon as the sharp, annoyed words left my mouth.

 _What had possessed me to say that?_

It implied, in every way possible, that I had not only been conscious of his absence but that I had also missed his presence.

Max obviously reached the same conclusion since he actually looked surprised for a second, before a small smile spread across his lips. My eyes traveled briefly to his lips, before I realized that doing that wouldn't really help my case right now.

"You missed me?" he asked and winked at me.

 _Winked_.

I inhaled deeply and was just about to come up with a retort when I became consciously aware of his hands on my arms.

 _His hands._

I pulled backwards, sharply, almost tripping over my own feet. But his grip was tighter than I had realized and me almost falling on my face only made his hold on me tighten even further.

" _Let me go_ ," I ground out, my voice low and full of warning.

His hands fell away from me as if I had been the one burning him, not the other way around, and I watched the color drain from his face, the previous amusement having evaporated.

His eyes searched my face, eye movements frantic, pupils dilated with fear and something very tangible creeping into his irises.

Panic.

He grabbed my arm and before I had time to react or voice my protest, he was dragging me towards the back, through the doors marked 'Staff Only'.

"No," I mumbled, bewilderment at his actions momentarily smothering my reactions. "What are you doing?"

He pulled me into the back room, the doors flipping closed behind us, his eyes searching the surroundings, looking for something.

"Let me go," I bit out between my teeth and tried to pull free. But he was strong. Much stronger than me.

Fear rolled through me again. What would he do to me? If he could heal with the touch of his hand, could he also kill by that same touch? Would he really kill me? For something as simple as me trying to get away from him, telling him to not touch me? For me knowing his secret?

The thoughts were burning through my head as Max spotted the small staff toilet and dragged me in that direction. I pushed my heels into the ground and attempted being a human brake, but it didn't help. I was pretty sure that he could pick me up and carry me out of there without breaking a sweat if he wanted to.

He pulled the toilet door open and swiveled me into the small room. It was one of those small toilets, where the sink was almost placed on top of the toilet seat due to a severe lack of space.

Consequently, when Max shut the door behind us and switched on the light in the windowless closet-like space, we were almost standing on top of each other.

But he didn't seem to care that we were basically breathing each other's air or that I could feel the heat being emitted from his body. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again as he turned to the door and moved his hand over the lock. I was about to point out to him that the lock didn't work when I heard the familiar clicking sound of a lock locking.

"How…" I whispered, but had evidently forgotten how to form any more words than that.

"You remember," Max stated, pulling my attention from the mysterious locking of the door to his face. His face looked calm now, as if the locked door between us and the rest of the restaurant would protect him.

My heart was beating faster and the walls were closing in on me. He wasn't touching me any longer, but due to the confined space he was all around me. His presence, his smell, his eyes… His eyes were undressing me, layer by layer. And not in some sexual way, but more as if he was burrowing into my very soul.

"You…" I tried to take a deep breath, but I couldn't concentrate. The air was warm around us and I took a step back, my back immediately hitting the wall.

When my words failed me, he continued, "You saw me. That night. At the party. What I did to Isabel."

He stared at me intently and I tried to sort out my thoughts. Would I be safer telling him what he obviously already knew or would I be safer by denying it? Would he really leave me alone if I did? Judging by how he seemed to search my face for hidden unspoken answers, I had the feeling that I wouldn't be able to lie to him anyway.

I licked my suddenly dry lips and held his gaze, while stating in a small voice, "You made her wound go away."

Something flickered in his eyes and I frowned at the misplaced emotion. Sadness.

"Yes," he whispered and dropped his eyes.

Air whooshed into my lungs as his gaze let me go and I became aware of the nervous energy in my body, of the trembles of my being, of the sweat that was dampening my palms.

"I did," he filled in and looked up at me again.

The look in his eyes made me freeze and my breath stop cold. He was looking at me with regret. Like one of the bad guys in movies just before they kill someone only because they didn't have any other choice.

"No," I whispered, fear wetting my eyes as I pressed myself into the wall behind me.

He closed the small distance between us and my breath hitched as my body craved oxygen, only to get stuck on the way to my lungs due to the touch of his hands against my face. I tried to hold onto the sadness and warmness in his eyes as my fear escalated even as the palms cupping my face were gentle.

His eyes moved to watch his thumb catch the first tear sliding down my cheek and I thought I heard a break in his voice when he whispered, "I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"Then let me leave," I answered, my voice cracking with effort.

"I can't," he replied softly, regretfully, while his thumbs gently brushed back and forth across my cheeks. "Things have to go back to the way they were. You have to forget."

Another tear tumbled down my cheek as my lips trembled in agitation. "Please, don't hurt me."

"Never," he whispered and the word floated between us for a second, marking what I would forget the next.

Max Evans didn't kill me that day. Nor did he hurt me, per say. But I suddenly couldn't remember things the way they actually had happened. And I certainly didn't remember anything about glowing hands and the magical healing of wounds.


	7. SEVEN

**SEVEN**

"Where's your shadow?" Maria asked, breathless from attempting to get to school on time. She matched her strides with mine as we moved through the crowd of sleepy teenagers, dragging their feet towards the entrance of the school.

I frowned, glancing over at her while I adjusted the strap of the backpack slung across my shoulder. "My shadow?"

"Yeah," Maria said simply, her tone telling me that I should know exactly what she was referring to.

I sighed, brushing the windblown hair out of my face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ria."

"Come on," she groaned, lightly bumping into my side as we tried to get through the entrance at the same time as two other students.

The sound level significantly increased as we entered the busy corridors of Roswell High and I rolled the backpack off my back as I came to a stop in front of my locker.

Maria filed in next to me, rolling the combination of her padlock between her long slender fingers, while she leaned in and hissed, "Max Evans."

I chilled - a natural response to the mentioning of that mysterious boy - and straightened to glance around us, prepared to see Max standing behind me or something. My body sighed in relief when there was no sight of the dark-haired guy with the intense eyes.

I could feel Maria follow my movements with annoyance. "He was basically stepping on your heels last week."

I laughed. How did Maria come up with all of this? "No, he wasn't."

"Don't act stupid," Maria bit out, getting annoyed, "We even talked about it."

I searched my memory, the smile on my face faltering. This wasn't funny anymore. I could read the seriousness on Maria's face and I got the strong feeling that she wasn't joking around.

"No, we didn't," I protested weakly and scanned my surroundings as I was hit with the sensation of being watched.

And my sixth sense was correct.

 _Max Evans._

My eyes collided with his dark gaze as he breezed into the corridor, flanked by Isabel and Michael. Their strides were synchronized and their pace confident. They oozed dominance and beauty, making the sea of students part in front of them as their mere presence demanded respect.

I swallowed as his eyes traced down my shape, before he broke eye contact and the triad passed.

" _That_ ," Maria harshly pointed out with her voice close to my ear.

I allowed myself to follow the silhouette of the back of his body until he turned the corner and disappeared from my vision, before I refocused on Maria. "'That' what?"

"That's what Max was doing every day for the past week. Staring at you."

I laughed, but I could tell that I was not the only one that heard the fear in my laughter. "No." I straightened. "No, I think I would remember that."

Maria looked at me as if I was sprouting a second head. "You're kidding, right? You're just pulling my leg or something. You're not being serious… Liz. We _talked_ about this. About Max following you around. About how he had been doing it since the Halloween party. I asked if anything had happened between you at the party and you told me that you had heard a conversation between your wanna-be-vampires and that they were keeping an eye on you so you wouldn't rattle them out."

Blank. My mind was blank of any kind of memory like that. But Maria seemed so certain, almost desperately so as a sheen of frustration shone in her eyes.

"I don't…" I shook my head apologetically. "I don't remember that."

"Yeah, you told me that you didn't remember their conversation, but that they wanted to make sure that you really didn't remember."

"No," I continued shaking my head. "I don't remember having anything to do with them last week at all. Not just the conversation."

I thought back to the party. I had drunk too much. I had hung out with Maria and Alex. We had walked home, stumbling over our own intoxicated feet while laughing. At school on Monday, I had gone through the classes as usual, Maria had made fun of my insobriety at the party and I had worked at the CrashDown Café after school. The rest of the week had transpired in about the same manner. As it always did.

My life had been as uneventful as per usual.

The bell rang loudly above us, interrupting my thoughts and momentarily dimming the unsettling feeling inside. I glanced at Maria's face, noted that she looked scared, and bit my bottom lip worriedly, before ripping the door to my locker open, pulling the books for AP Biology out and slamming the door closed.

"I'll talk to you later," I said hastily to Maria. I could feel her eyes burning into my back as I left her standing by the lockers.

* * *

"Okay, everyone," Mr. Seligman announced, clapping his hands together to quiet the various conversations between students and gain their attention. The conversations ebbed and dropped off one by one and the biology teacher offered them a satisfied smile. "Thank you."

I discreetly pushed the left side of my hair over my right shoulder so that I could get a view at the person sitting diagonally behind me, without having to turn my head too much. I startled as I found him already looking at me and my hand automatically let my hair fall back in place - shielding my blushing face.

The earlier conversation with Maria had continued to gnaw on my mind, making Max the main subject of my curiosity. Was he the missing link? He was definitely the changing variable in this mystery I couldn't figure out. In my version of what had happened, he was not any more present in my life the past week than before, but in Maria's version he had basically been breathing the same air as me. How could that be?

"…with dissection to familiarize you with the anatomy of the mammal."

My attention was back on the teacher as he pulled on two latex gloves, letting them snap demonstratively at the wrists. Mr. Seligman sure had an affinity for drama. Next he proceeded to pick up the carcass of a piglet, holding it up in front of the class with its pale belly facing the students. There were mixed responses from my classmates, ranging from sarcastic 'Wohoo's' to fake retching.

"Calm down. This is not rocket science," Mr. Seligman chuckled good-naturedly and traced a finger along the midline of the dead specimen. "You are to incise along the midline of the pig. Be careful with the amount of pressure you use or you might cut into the underlying abdominal content-" a nervous 'Oh my God, I think I'm gonna be sick' was heard from my right and I looked at Pam Troy sympathetically. Her complexion had taken on a green tint and she was pressing the back of her hand against her mouth.

Oblivious to the responses his detailed instructions were causing, the teacher continued, "As you cut through the skin with the scalpel, you'll encounter a white membrane. Lift this up with your tweezers so that the underlying organs - mostly intestines - will fall away and not be damaged by your scalpel."

I felt watched, a burning sensation tracing the back of my head, down my spine. Feeling restless, I started chewing on the end of my pencil while I tried to concentrate on what my teacher was saying. After all, it was pertinent to listen, in order to attain a good grade.

Speaking of which…

"Today's exercise accounts for 20% of your final grade -" there was a collective groan, which Mr. Seligman chose to ignore, "- and you'll be judged on how carefully you make your incision and the categorization of organs and tissues. I'm expecting a write-up of the functions of each organ you encounter during this dissection at the end of the week."

Whispered objections spread amongst the students and I surveyed my classmates seated behind me as Mr. Seligman addressed Melissa, who had raised her hand. "Yes, Ms. Thomas?"

"You want us to do all of that in today's lesson? There's no time."

"Ah," Mr. Seligman smiled, bringing his gloved hands together, having placed the piglet down on a metal tray on his desk. "You'll be working in teams of two today."

I froze. I hated group work. Especially in AP Bio, since neither Alex nor Maria was in this class.

"Can we choose?" Alexandra Wilson asked.

"Let's mix it up, shall we?" Mr. Seligman suggested with an adventurous glint in his eyes and I sighed inwardly while the rest of the class did the same audibly. Why did teachers never allow you to choose your own partner?

But in this class, I didn't mind. Since I wouldn't know who to choose if I had a choice.

To the background of protests from the students, Mr. Seligman started pairing people together. I was drawing the face of a vampire in my notebook - fully equipped with sharp fangs and blood dripping from the corner of the mouth - when my name was spoken.

"Elizabeth Parker and…" I looked up to see Mr. Seligman consult the notes in front of him, "…Max Evans."

 _Fuck._

I whipped my head in the direction of Max and saw him pack up his notes, his pencil caught between his teeth. He was not looking at me. My eyes flickered back to the desk in front of me, my gaze falling on the half-finished vampire drawing and my heart beat tripped as I started folding the paper in on itself, hiding the malicious face.

In my periphery I could see him taking the seat next to me, could feel his body heat spread across the distance between us.

"Hey," he mumbled and I let my eyes wander to his face. He was staring into the desk surface, acutely focused on organizing his papers in front of him.

I frowned. This was not the assertive Max I had just seen walk down the corridor. Far from it. Miles and miles from it.

"Hey," I replied and brought the pencil back to my mouth, where it would be attacked by my teeth.

"This box contains the fetuses," Mr. Seligman instructed, pointing at a large white plastic box next to the front door. But I wasn't listening. I was analyzing Max Evans out of the corner of my eye.

I was observing the restless movements of his knee, the thrumming of his pencil against the desk, how his hand would come up and scratch behind his ear, the way his dark hair was a bit too long behind his ears, making it curl around them softly. I noticed how his jaw clenched beneath the skin of his cheek, saw the thin blue veins across the top of his hands, and couldn't help but notice the fairly muscular quality of his underarms.

I felt my body getting warmer and I closed my eyes to try and refocus. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"You okay?"

My eyes flung open at his soft question and I gasped at his closeness. He had leaned in, his hand hovering above my shoulder as if he was about to touch me.

"Yeah," I said hastily and pulled out of his reach. "Yes."

He quickly pulled his hand back, almost looking contrite, before collecting himself and straightening in his chair.

"Do you want me to-?" he hitched his head in the direction of the box with dead animals and I shook me head. I needed to move; needed to get some breathing room.

"No, I'll do it," I said, jumping off the chair, snatching a pair of gloves from the box at the end of the teacher's desk and pulling them over my hands.

I lined up behind three of my classmates, my thoughts miles away as I waited for my turn to retrieve a dead pig fetus from a plastic box.

Max seemed nervous. I had never seen him nervous before. Was it because of me? _Had_ something happened last week that I for some reason couldn't remember? The Max Evans I was used to wouldn't be sitting quietly next to me, but would be throwing insinuations at me, pulling his chair close to mine just to freak me out and suffocate me with his presence. Today's Max Evans was _polite_.

A voice abruptly pulled me out of my jumbled thoughts. "Hi, Liz."

I looked up to see Sean Carter observing me with a soft smile on the other side of the box of death. He inclined his head to the side as he gained my attention. "A penny for your thoughts?"

I felt myself blush and immediately chastened myself. I _never_ blushed. But there was something warm and inviting about Sean's expression. Something that was in stark contrast to my grey thoughts.

"Nothing important," I replied with a shrug.

His blue eyes were pulling me in and I unconsciously took a step closer, almost bumping into the person standing in front of me.

"Did you have a good weekend?" Sean asked and I tried to catch on to the fleeting thought that it was weird that Sean was chit chatting with me, but my mind felt slow and my body light. I felt my lips form a smile and I would've dropped my eyes in modesty if I'd been able to break eye contact with him.

"It was okay," I answered softly, vaguely aware that it was my turn to pick out a cadaver.

"Got any plans for Saturday?" Sean asked and a shiver of excitement traced down my spine.

I opened my mouth to respond when something cut off my eye contact with Sean, making me emotionally collapse heavily back into my own body.

"Sean," Max's dark voice greeted stiffly as I found myself staring at Max's back.

"Hey Evans," Sean's voice replied lightly, but Max's body was still blocking me from seeing Sean. My heart was hammering in my ears, my body felt heavy and tired - as if I had just ran a marathon.

I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the dizziness swimming through my head and pulled deep gulps of air into my lungs. Maybe this dissection of corpses wasn't really my thing.

"You okay?"

My eyes sprang open and collided with Max's light brown eyes. I could feel his eyes piercing through my head. I briefly looked at the stiff piglet he was holding in his glove-covered hands before meeting his eyes again as the dizziness slowly left me and I registered that Sean had silently left.

"Of course," I replied, irritation creeping into my voice. Irritated with my own feelings, for losing my focus while speaking to Sean (of all people). I frowned at my internal battle; through all my years growing up in Roswell I couldn't remember I single time I had actually spoken to Sean, let alone even noticing him.

Why did I suddenly want to know everything about him?

"Are you just gonna stand there?" Max asked, his voice amused but his eyes dark.

I was confused by the combination, but decided to latch onto the feeling that I knew how to handle. "I was waiting for you."

"Sure," he winked and brushed past me.

Max didn't say much as we placed the piglet on the metal tray, sliced it open and slowly went through the organs. I didn't feel much like speaking either as I watched his hands handle the organs, separating them from their attachments and lining them up on the second metal tray.

To be honest, I was busy trying to control my emotions. Being fairly squeamish around blood, dead tissue wasn't much easier. At least the coagulated and cold blood in the corpse was less nauseating than warm, flowing and bright red blood. Thank God for small favors.

"Should I be concerned that you're a natural at this?" I asked quietly, my eyes fixed on continuous line of miniature organs.

"Why should that concern you?" he asked, his voice holding the same quietness as mine.

I refrained from looking up at him, instead pulling my gloves off and picking up my pen. Placing the point of the pen against the paper, with the intention of categorizing the organs, I mumbled, "Your father's a surgeon, right?"

"So he is," Max answered and I noticed him matching my actions, preparing to write down the organs on his own paper.

"Do you go there a lot?" I asked, writing 'Heart - cardiovascular system' on my paper.

"Where?"

"To the hospital, with your dad?"

He didn't respond and his pen was still against the paper, making me look up at him. He was looking at me intensely, pensively.

"Maria told me that's where you disappear to. That's the reason why you skip school from time to time."

I found myself being confused by my own statement. The information of Max ditching school from time to time was firmly in my memory, but I couldn't remember the actual conversation with Maria when I had found out. Up until the point that I had asked Max just now, I hadn't even been aware myself that I'd that information locked up in me.

His eyes didn't move away from my face, his face a blank slate. "Maria told you, huh?"

I swallowed back my nervousness. There was no reason for _me_ to be nervous. "Apparently it's no secret."

"So… if it's common knowledge, why the sudden interest?"

My mouth was dry as I tried to swallow, my eyes flickering uninhibited to his lips. I couldn't explain the urges that befell me at times, which forcibly compelled me to attack him. To line up my lips with his, to run my tongue against the seam of his mouth, to push my fingers through his hair, to slide my tongue down his throat, kiss the indention at the base where his prominent collarbones failed to meet-

"Elizabeth?"

I shivered - and blushed - at his use of my full name, at the mirth in his voice and the grin sneaking upon his lips. I dropped my eyes to my paper, hoping for the two-hundred-and-fifty-sixth time that he couldn't read minds.

While jotting down 'Lungs - respiratory system', I replied to his previous question, "It wasn't common knowledge to me."

I could feel his stare at the top of my head as I pretended to be immensely riveted by figuring out in which system the kidneys belonged.

"Why wasn't it?"

I looked up at him and answered lightly, "I wasn't interested before."

He narrowed his eyes in thought. "What changed your mind?"

"You," I replied smoothly, "Following me around."

I watched him stiffen, his eyes growing dark against his paling skin. I wanted to test his reaction, see if there might be any truth to what Maria had been insinuating.

"You thought I wouldn't remember?" I shrugged, looking down at my paper again while adding, "I don't, actually. But Maria informed me that you were practically stalking me last week," I looked up at his ghostly face and finished, "and then you stopped. About the same time that I forgot."

"Liz…" he whispered.

I didn't let him continue, tapping the top of the pen against my bottom lip in thought. "Why is that, Max? Why is it that Maria is so certain that you were my stalker and I'm very certain of the opposite?"

He was quiet for another two seconds before chuckling, his body relaxing. And he almost fooled me. I almost believed that he thought the notion was humorous, if it hadn't been for the darkness haunting his eyes.

"I think you know better than me that Maria is not the most reliable source of information."

Feeling protective of my best friend, I instantly bit out, "Don't talk about her like that."

He put up his hands in front of him in a display of surrender. "Whoa. No offense."

"I trust Maria," I said acidly and met his gaze without blinking. "I don't trust you."

He didn't look away from my demanding gaze but I noticed a twitch at the corner of his eye as he observed me. Then he shrugged and tapped his pen against the paper. "Maybe we should finish this."

"Avoiding the subject," I mumbled and looked down at my notes. "Okay."

"Yes," Max replied with a determination that made me look up at him again. "My dad wants me at the hospital a couple of days per month."

I bit my lower lip in contemplation as I asked, "Why?"

Max hesitated briefly before answering, "He wants me to be a doctor."

"There's medical school for that, you know. Isn't it better if you get a high school diploma? Good grades?"

"There's nothing wrong with my grades," Max replied, his eyes softening, as if he was sharing a private joke.

I frowned. "I never see you study."

He shrugged and answered lightly, "I don't have to."

"Everyone has to study."

"I have…" he wet his lips as I watched, transfixed, "something of a photographic memory."

"Huh," I huffed and turned unseeing eyes to my notes. "I just find it a bit weird that you would train with your dad, that's all. That the hospital allows you to. Patient confidentiality and all."

"That's taken care of," Max answered mysteriously.

"Uh-huh," I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and wrote 'Kidneys - Renal system'. There was something fundamentally wrong about Max's comments, about the whole situation. Sure, if they had been in the 18th century, it would have been natural for Max to learn his father's trade from being his apprentice. But they lived in a modern society, where there were educational systems and a lot of bureaucracy that should frown upon the type of arrangement described by Max.

I opened my mouth to challenge his information further, but the school bell interrupted me. Our eyes met over the carved out abdominal cavity of the piglet and I wordlessly let myself fall into his eyes, feeling the (nowadays) familiar sparks of desire shoot along the nerves of my body, pooling at the base of my stomach.

"Okay, people," Mr. Seligman clapped his hands together. "Organs and carcasses go into the blue plastic bags. There's alcohol spray on the back table; wash off your tables."

A collective groan swept through the room which had Mr. Seligman add, "You surely didn't assume that _I_ was going to clean up after you, were you?"

I broke eye contact with Max and collected my papers and pens to place them on the floor; away from the planned cleaning of the table. I froze as Max's hand folded around my elbow. His touch burnt through my heart and my breath was trapped in my throat as I slowly raised my eyes to his face.

I felt his warm breath against my lips as he leaned in, the tip of his nose almost bumping into mine. My body was still, there was no chance in hell that I was able to breathe with him so close.

"Stay away from Sean Carter," he whispered, a desperate urgency in his voice.

"What?" I breathed, my lungs starting to ache from the lack of oxygen.

"He's dangerous," Max said, his eyes trapping mine.

"I don't know him," I answered getting dizzy from not breathing.

"Just be careful," Max insisted, his hand tightening around my elbow. "Please."

I looked at the long dark lashes over his eyes, at the size of his pupils, the faint redness to his cheeks, the crease between his eyes.

"Okay," I breathed, non-convincingly.

His grip on my elbow loosened and heat curled in the center of my stomach as his eyes traveled to my lips. The tension on his face smoothened and was gone by the time he looked up into my eyes again.

"Breathe," he whispered with a soft grin and took a step back, breaking the spell his proximity always put on me.

Air rushed into my lungs at his command and I stumbled backwards. Max chuckled and shook his head, putting gloves back over his hands to collect the pieces of tissue.

Annoyance crept into my body and my lips tightened in a straight line as I let the stationary drop to the floor before I angrily stomped off to get the cleaning agent.

Max Evans was annoying. Max Evans was really getting on my nerves.


	8. EIGHT

**EIGHT**

I placed my bag on the kitchen counter, brushing some errant strands of hair out of my face, just as my mother turned away from the sink. "Hi, Mom."

I felt a chill go through me as she faced me.

"Hi, sweetie," she said softly, not meeting my eyes.

I silently took in the prominent purple color below her eyes, like two large bruises, the translucency of her white and pale skin, the redness of her eyes, the visible blue veins around her temples and the dryness of her red hair.

She looked horrible.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a step around the kitchen island.

"Just tired," my mother said, offering me a soft smile that desperately failed to reach her eyes.

"Are you sick, Mommy?" I asked in a small voice. It felt foreign to see her like this. My mom was this torrent of energy, fiery like the color of her hair and, discounting some occasional bouts of light colds, I had never actually seen her sick.

"I had a bad night, that's all," mom answered, turning to take a pot of boiling water off the stove.

"You were fine this morning," I pointed out, wrenched by the strongest feeling that she was lying. What had happened in the hours I'd been at school? Mom had been scheduled to spend the day working at the restaurant, nothing else.

"Maybe you got food poisoning or something," I suggested weakly, her appearance frightening me more than I dared to admit.

I watched her long slender fingers tremble as she struggled to hold the weight of the water-filled pan over the sink, while pouring out the boiling water.

"Maybe," she mumbled and I walked up to her, silently replaced her grip on the pan with my own hands and used my body to gently shove her out of the way.

"Let me do that," I said and looked at her over my shoulder. "Sit down, Mom."

I tried not to register how she looked ready to pass out as she gingerly lowered herself to one of the kitchen chairs.

"Have you seen a doctor?" I asked, placing the warm pan on the cooling stove.

"If this doesn't pass, I will," my mom promised tiredly, her voice a bare whisper. "It's probably just a 24-hour bug."

"Right," I said, turning to face her fully. My fear was blasting through my system, my brain numerating every fatal disease on the planet. "You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"

She mustered up a smile, placing her elbow on the table to support her tired head. "Of course, honey."

I inhaled, trying to let it go. It was probably nothing. Mom was the epitome of health; it just couldn't be serious. Right?

"Your father wanted to ask you something," my mom said.

I wasn't that inclined to leave her alone, but had to ask, "Where is he?"

"At the restaurant," mom answered and I nodded.

I looked at her with blazing worry, biting my lower lip. "You'll be okay?"

She laughed lightly; a laughter that ended with a hacking cough. I felt the blood freeze in my veins.

"Of course, honey," she answered, her voice hoarse from the coughing and I thought I heard a wheezing to her breathing. "Just go."

I hesitated before walking up to her and kissing her cold clammy cheek. "I love you, Mom."

She smiled at me, her light-brown eyes filled with love. "Love you too, Lizzie."

* * *

"What's wrong with mom?"

My father looked up from behind the counter, my voice clear over the regular sounds of a restaurant. "There's something wrong with mom?"

"Haven't you seen her?" I asked, frustration chilling my voice.

"She's just tired," dad said and discarded the whole thing with a shrug.

My concern faltered by his ease. Maybe I was overreacting. "You sure?"

"She's never sick," dad echoed my previous thoughts and looked up with a smile.

I paused, not being able to completely discard that nagging feeling of worry at the back of my head. "You wanted to talk to me about something."

"Yes," my father said and placed a pencil behind his ear. "That daughter and father camping trip - that's this weekend, right?"

I groaned. Right. I'd forgotten. My dad loved those things. I didn't. Don't get me wrong; I love my dad. I love hanging out with him. But camping is not really my thing.

"Yes, I think it is," I agreed with a sigh.

He rolled his eyes at me. "Relax, Lizzie. It's not like it's your execution."

"Could've fooled me," I mumbled.

"Sorry?" he asked with a smile that told me he had heard every word.

I scratched behind my ear and worked up a smile, "Thanks for reminding me, Daddy". I swirled around to return to our apartment on top of the restaurant. I was itching to get back to mom. But my dad's voice stopped me.

"One more thing, sweetie."

My shoulders slumped and I reluctantly turned towards him. "Yes?"

"Could you pick up some consumables at Amy DeLuca's?" he thumbed through a pile of papers in front of me and pulled one out for me. "Just some straws, cups, napkins etc."

I grimaced. "Tonight?" Hoping that he would say 'no'.

"Please," he said and my heart sank.

"I want to check in on mom," I objected and saw his face softened at my reason for reluctancy.

"Sweetie," he sighed. "I know you're worried. But there's nothing you can do. She just needs some rest. I'll go up there and see to it that she goes to bed immediately. In the meantime, you should let your mind think about something else."

Maybe some distraction would be a good thing. I sighed. "Fine."

"Thanks, baby," dad smiled and I reached over the counter to retrieve the car keys.

"I'll be back in about one million years," I said bitterly over my shoulder, my exaggeration met with my dad's chuckle.

Everyone knew that Amy DeLuca was just as much of a chatterbox as her daughter. Which was the reason my dad avoided going there if he could. His time was too precious to be wasted on chit-chatting.

Apparently mine wasn't.

* * *

The back seat was filled with boxes of green alien straws, silver napkins, souvenirs, three alien cakes, plastic cups with alien print and toothpicks designed as metal probes.

My ears felt like they were bleeding from Amy's incessant chatter which had me immediately turn down the volume on the car stereo before turning the car onto the road that would take me into Roswell. The DeLucas lived just outside of the city center.

The outskirts of Roswell - the suburbs you might call it - were lined with villas and occasional mansions. For some reason, a lot of well-off people had decided to move to Roswell. Something I had always found a bit weird. If you were rich, why would you move to Roswell of all places?

That's why I found it very strange to see a homeless person walk unsteadily down the streets in the most well-to-do neighborhood. To be honest, I had never seen a homeless person in Roswell.

My curiosity getting the best out of me, I slowed the car somewhat as I approached the stiff figure, letting my gaze drift over the profile of the person as I drove past.

My heart lurched as I saw the face of the 'homeless' and my feet hit the brakes so hard that more than half of the boxes in the backseat fell to the floor, one of the cakes teetering on the edge of the seat. The car came to an abrupt stop and I held onto the steering wheel with whitening knuckles, catching my breath, before pushing the door open and getting out of the car.

I must've been mistaken. It couldn't have been…

I walked around the rear of the car and looked in the direction of where the car had just passed. And there he was.

The handsome and well-off player Max Evans.

Only, if his eyes hadn't been haunting my dreams, I probably wouldn't have recognized him. His gait was stiff, his shoulders slumped, blood had dried in the corner of his mouth, his face was discolored in a worrisome patchwork… Even his clothes were torn.

"Oh my God," I gasped, my hand shooting up in front of my mouth to cover my alarm.

I had a feeling he hadn't noticed me as he stumbled closer to where I had stopped the car. His gaze was fixed on the ground, as if he was concentrating on every step he took.

I struggled to get my trembling legs moving, but once they were in motion I couldn't seem to stop them. I was running by the time I stopped five feet from him.

"Max?" I whispered.

He froze, his body trembling in stillness, as he raised his face towards my voice. There was shock on his tarnished face and, appalled, I took in the details of his injuries. His swollen and bloody lips, the open wounds barely hidden in his hairline, the odd angle to his nose, the bruising around the top of his cheek and the bottom of his jaw.

"Oh my God," I gasped and took a step closer.

He flinched and I stopped, my arm paused in the air without purpose, almost closing the distance between us.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked.

My heart sent pain out to the very tips of my fingers. Who had done this to him? "What happened?"

"You shouldn't be here," Max continued, his voice breaking, fear in his eyes. "It's too dangerous."

But I wouldn't listen. I almost laughed at his suggestion. He wanted me to just leave him here? In this state?

"Who did this to you?" I demanded, anger burning through me in a way I had never experienced before.

"Liz," he whispered and my anger gripped me more firmly in its vice as I watched tears form in his eyes. I wanted to hurt whoever had done this to him. I wasn't even sure why, but right then - I didn't even care about the reason.

"Get in the car," I demanded, struggling to reign in my anger as I surveyed our surroundings. Was his attacker still out there? Lurking in the shadows?

"No," he said, probably intending for it to be more forceful than it actually was. Instead he swayed on the spot and I closed the distance between us and put my arm around his waist.

He was stiff against my body and I was pretty sure that he wanted to fight me off, but he was too damaged to have the energy. Instead he slumped against my side, almost making me fold under his weight.

"You shouldn't be around me right now," he whispered brokenly, his breath bearing the metallic smell of blood as it brushed against my cheek.

"Don't be ridiculous," I mumbled and gently guided him - one stiff step at the time - towards the passenger side of the car.

If I hadn't been so worked up, so afraid and fueled with anger, my body surely would have heated at the touch of his fingers against the bare skin of my waist, where my shirt had ridden up. His fingers were digging into the soft skin of my side as he tried to anchor his arm around my back.

I'm sure he was in a lot of pain, but he didn't cry out once as I opened the car door and helped him get into the small space.

My movements were frantic as I took a hold of the seatbelt and leaned across his broken body to fasten it in the lock. I felt his warmth all around me and my concern for his physical state was threatening to break me. But I had to be strong. When I really wanted to fold into his lap and comfort him in a hug, I pulled back, ducking out of the car, and closed the door.

Running around the rear of the car, I ripped the door to the driver's side open and hopped in. Closing the door behind me, I was struck with the deafening silence of the car's interior. As I looked over at the victim I had dragged into my car, I was made severely aware of the fact that we were very much alone. In a confined space.

I looked over at my involuntary passenger. His fists were tightly balled up against his bloodied jeans and his breathing was somewhat jerky as he stared straight ahead.

"Max," I implored, but he wouldn't look at me. I swallowed, my own hands fisting in anger. Who would do such a thing to a person? To a teenager? In Roswell? Nothing ever happened in Roswell!

Max might be a bit narcissistic and something of a smart-ass, but he certainly didn't deserve this. No one did.

"Who did this?" I asked, repeating my earlier question.

"Liz," he whispered brokenly and I bit down on my lip hard to stop myself from screaming out in frustration. I had never felt like this. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out.

"Please take me home," Max continued.

"No," I shook my head, tasting blood from biting my lip too hard. "No, you need to go to the hospital."

He looked over at me then and I felt tears pool in my eyes. His eyes were red and anguished, his swollen lips were begging me to, "Take me home." I started to shake my head when he added, "My dad will help me."

Right. His dad was a doctor.

I hesitated. "Are you sure? Isn't it better if-"

He stretched his hand across the gear stick and grimaced slightly with the movement. Surprised, I let him take my hand. I looked down at our interlocked hands, both tainted by his blood.

"He'll know what to do."

I tried to think of what was the best thing to do. If I should listen to him or just go against his wishes and do the rational thing. But there were too many feelings running through my body right then and I couldn't think clearly. Besides, he was making a rational argument: his dad _was_ a doctor, after all.

I swallowed and nodded slowly. "Okay."

His body slumped with a noticeable exhalation, "Thank you," and he let go of my hand.

I took a deep breath, tried to reign my emotions in, and directed my eyes forward. My hands trembled as they gripped the steering wheel and I took another deep breath. I could sense his eyes on my profile and I closed my eyes momentarily, gathering my strength, before turning the ignition, putting the car in gear and directing the car towards Max's home.

The drive to Max's house was quiet. I tried to not listen too closely to Max's ragged breathing and tried not to dwell on suspicions that he might have a punctured lung or broken ribs. Maybe he was bleeding internally right now, minutes away from dying? I unconsciously pressed the gas further into the floor and ignored the look Max gave me as he brought a hand up to steel himself against the effects of the increased speed of the car.

We reached Max's house in no time. I tried to maneuver the car to a stop as gently as I could, forgetting that the borderline reckless drive had probably jostled Max more than my stopping ever could.

I quickly unfastened my seatbelt, pushed the door open and practically ran around the car to help Max with his seatbelt before he could attempt to do so himself. I opened the door and my frantic hands repeatedly bumped against his as I pushed his hands away from the lock.

"Let me," I grumbled.

I was sure that he would have laughed at me if the circumstances had been different. The fact that he didn't told me how serious this was.

His warm breath brushed against the side of my throat as I unfastened the seatbelt.

I guided the seatbelt to retract from around his chest and leaned back slightly, lining my face up with his as I leaned over him. I inhaled at the sight of his face up-close, swallowing a gasped sob. His face seemed to be getting worse by the minute, growing more and more terrifying in color variation.

Swallowing back nausea I locked eyes with him and whispered, "You ready?"

He looked into my soul and from some warm place in his tarnished body, he murmured, "Thank you."

I absently bit my lower lip and saw his gaze flicker to that point of focus. Mortified by my action, I instantly released my lip and nodded, taking his gratitude as an affirmation to my question, "Okay."

I carefully put my arms around his middle, pushing my fingers between his hard back muscles and the soft cushion of the car seat. I heard his groan of pain against my ear as he pressed his forehead into the curve of my neck. Pressing my heels into the ground, I started pulling on his upper body to help him outside.

I'm pretty sure he did most of the work, but with mutual sounds of exertion we managed to get out of the car. Just as Max was straightening to almost his full height, there were steps on the gravel driveway behind me.

"Oh my- Max!"

I turned to see Isabel running towards us, worry and fear etched into her beautiful features. Following in her footsteps were two adults; Mr. and Mrs. Evans.

Max's arm was across my shoulders, his side glued to mine, as he looked up at his family. Isabel immediately flung herself at her brother, inadvertently pushing me away. Max grunted with palpable pain and Isabel quickly jumped back, even though her hands continued to fuss over his face.

"What the hell happened?" she cried, tears tumbling uninhibited down her cheeks.

I looked over at the parents who had now reached the scene. I don't think I had ever met them. The parents looked nothing like their children. Just like Isabel and Max really didn't look much alike.

Odd.

But that wasn't the weirdest thing. Mr. Evans reaction to his son's condition was worse.

I jumped in fear as Mr. Evans boomed at the top of his lungs, " _What the hell did you do?_ "

But instead of shrinking back towards my car, I found myself moving in front of Max.

Max's mother looked at me with a calm face and plastered a fake smile on her painted red lips. "Hello, I don't think we've met."

"That's Liz," Isabel said, appearing uncertain about her role all of the sudden. Maybe her father's outburst had surprised her too. "She's our classmate."

"Thank you for bringing our son home," Mrs. Evans said politely. "Now, we need some time alone with our son."

I looked at the anger on Max's father's face and held my ground. Fear coursed through me as I saw Mr. Evans' eyes narrow.

If looks could kill…

"Why are you angry with him?" I demanded hotly. "He needs your help. He wanted me to bring him here so that you could help him."

"We will, Liz," Mrs. Evans said, the smile on her lips turning strained as she shot a worried look at her husband.

"Liz, go," Max said quietly behind me and I felt him start to move.

I twirled around, grabbing his bloodied hand. "No."

His damaged eyes looked at me and there was something really warm in his gaze partly concealed behind crystal clear fear. "Just leave. Please. I'm home now. I'll be okay."

I felt the anger from before creep back into me. "He's yelling at you. I won't leave you here with him."

Maybe it was ridiculous, but I felt as if Max would be punished further - by his father - for getting beat up.

"I will only say this once, young lady," chills ran down my spine as the dark and threatening voice of Mr. Evans filled the air. "Leave. Now."

For the first time since I had seen Max Evans walking brokenly by the side of the road, barely able to remain on his feet, I felt tears fall down my cheeks. With my back still turned towards Max's family, only Max could see my face.

His eyes glistened with concern, and something I couldn't decipher, as he watched the tears slide down my cheeks. He gingerly brought his free hand up to my cheek, letting his thumb brush against my skin as he whispered softly, "I'll be okay. Go home. Your mom needs you more than me."

I closed my eyes against his touch for a second, before his words hit me like a sledgehammer.

 _Your mom needs you._

My eyes flung open and I stared at him, seeing the realization hit him just as suddenly as it hit me. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Liz, I'm-"

"How do you know about my mom?"

"Now is not the tim-"

I swallowed back the tears, squeezing his hand in mine, demanding an explanation. "I never told you about my mom."

"Someone told me that she wasn't feeling well," Max mumbled, his eyes pleading for me to let it go.

"Who?" I whispered, begging him to tell me the truth. "Who, Max?"

No one knew. No one knew that my mom was not herself. I had just found out myself.

"I was at the CrashDown earlier today; I saw her," Max explained.

"Liz, you should leave," Isabel said to my right and I watched Max quickly look away from me, in the direction of where I presumed his parents were standing.

"No," Max said forcibly. "You leave her alone."

His fierce order froze my heart and I got the feeling that I was on enemy ground and that I had my back turned towards that said enemy.

"You make her leave right now, Maxwell," his father threatened, "Or I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

My heart galloped in my chest and my hand started to tremble, still holding onto Max's hand. Max probably felt the tremble and looked back at me.

"I'll explain later," he promised calmly, but I found myself not caring if he would or not. Suddenly I really needed to get out of there. But I also wanted to take Max with me. Would I really be able to leave Max with this monster of a father?

He squeezed my trembling hand and gave my body a gentle shove in the direction of my car. I looked over my shoulder and met Mr. Evan's eyes. I instantly regretted that I had done so. I'd never seen anything more terrifying than that man's face at that moment.

Still, something deep inside of me made me sharply say, "If you lay one hand on him…"

The corners of Mr. Evans' mouth twitched and my fists balled at the side of my body, wanting to punch him for almost smiling in this situation.

"He's my son," Mr. Evans said coldly. "He'll get the treatment he deserves."

I wasn't sure what that meant, but I flickered a nervous look in Max's direction, wanting him to soothe my nerves. But Max wasn't looking at me. He was staring at his father, his body tense.

"See you, Max," I said quietly.

"Yeah," Max answered, still not looking at me.

With an ice cold heart I got into my car and drove off, refraining from looking in the rearview window as I left Max to his family.

* * *

"My God… Liz, what happened to you? Are you hurt?"

Paternal hands were flying across my face and whispering over my body. The parental love and concern fractured the ice around my heart and I sank to my knees as sobs were wrenched out of my body.

"Baby, baby," my dad whispered, kneeling next to me and pulling me into his arms, rocking me back and forth.

I could hear the fear in his voice as he tried to comfort me. The fear of the situation with Max's parents had finally hit me, and the fear and worry for his well-being was suffocating. But mostly I cried about Max not having this; not having parents that comforted him and held him when he was in pain.

"I'm fine," I sobbed. "I'm fine."

"Please tell me what happened," my father whispered and I could hear the tears in his voice.

He had seen the blood on my hands, on my clothes. Max's blood. Of course he was assuming it was mine.

"It's not my blood," I croaked as the sobs calmed.

"Then who…?" My father tenderly brushed the hair away from my face, pressing a kiss against my forehead.

"A friend," I replied. "I found him hurt on the side of the road. When I was driving back from Maria's."

My father looked at me, fear in his eyes. "Is your friend okay?"

"I don't know," I said quietly and my voice broke, tears threatening to return. I swallowed them back. "I brought him to his place."

"Okay," my dad said slowly. I expected him to ask more questions, but he just pulled me back into his arms, hugging me tightly.

"How's mom?" my voice was muffled against his shirt.

"Asleep," my dad answered. "She was exhausted."

"Yeah," I agreed, waiting for the relief that should come with his reply. But it didn't come. I needed to see her for myself.

I pulled back and looked up at my father's face. He looked tired, his face worn and haunted. "Can I see her?"

"Of course, baby," dad replied. "Just be quiet."

I pressed a kiss to his cheek and gave him a final hug with a whispered, "Love you, Daddy," before crawling out of his arms and making my way over to my parents' bedroom.

I carefully pushed the door open, watching the light from the living room stream into the dark bedroom.

I just needed to see that she was breathing.

I quietly walked up to the bed, to the still form of my mother, and fell to my knees next to the bed. I grew still, watching her closely. It was not until I saw her chest move and felt the breath cross her lips that I relaxed. The relief weakened my body and I suddenly felt drained as the events of the past few hours caught up with me.

This had been the evening from hell.

I tenderly brushed at her hair and whispered, "I love you, Mom."

She didn't stir, deep in the grip of sleep. I sat by her side for another five minutes, before getting to my feet and leaving her alone.


	9. NINE

**NINE**

Max was not at school the next day.

I was not surprised, but instantly worried.

Maria was surprised when I directed my steps towards Isabel as soon as we entered the school corridors that morning.

I grabbed Isabel by the elbow and she turned a wary and tired face towards me. With nausea written across her face she stated, "Liz."

"How is he?" I asked hurriedly.

"Better," Isabel replied, avoiding my eyes.

My grip on her elbow tightened. "Tell me the truth."

Her eyes were annoyed when she looked at me. "I am."

I searched her eyes, trying to discern if she was. There was something really wrong about the Evans family. I had found that out just the night before. Could I even trust Isabel?

"What did your dad do after I left?"

Isabel's eyes flickered away again and I knew her answer would be a lie. "They discussed what happened. He tended to Max's wounds, and then mom and dad put him to bed."

I swallowed back my anger. Bullshit. The anger was so intense that I felt my eyes blur with tears.

I stepped closer to Isabel, got right in her face. She startled at my sudden proximity, her face paling at the expression on my face.

"What kind of man is your father?" I spit out venomously.

I saw the anger ignite in Isabel's eyes and she spit back, "He's a remarkable man, father, and doctor. He saves lives every day. Don't you dare-"

"No," I interrupted and shoved a finger against her chest. "What I saw yesterday wasn't a 'remarkable' man. He wanted to _hurt_ Max."

Isabel slapped my hand away and towered up in front of me. Isabel was almost a head taller than me and had some more pounds on me, but my anger was making me brave.

She got close to my face and I could feel droplets of spit brush my face as she pushed the words out through clenched teeth, "This is none of your business. Back. Off."

In a way, I knew that she was right. Max Evans was not my business. He was not my friend, he was not my boyfriend. A week ago I had hated his guts, even been a bit afraid of him. For several years I've had him pegged as a vampire. So no, one couldn't say that Max Evans' well-being was my business.

But still I couldn't let it go. I couldn't forget his eyes, his broken expression, or the blood on his clothes, the venom in the man who was supposed to have fathered him, the lack of familial warmth I had witnessed. I couldn't forget the feeling that by delivering him to his house yesterday, I had inherently thrown him to the wolves.

I felt like it was my fault.

"He better be back tomorrow,"I threatened with a growl and took a step back.

Isabel didn't say anything in reply. Her eyes were black and hostile as she spun on her heels and briskly walked down the corridor. At her departure, I noticed the crowd we had attracted and the anger started to simmer down.

Maria gripped my upper arm and leaned close to my ear. "What the hell was that, Lizzie?"

"I'll tell you later," I answered, fighting to still my breathing.

"I'm counting on it," Maria said and took my hand.

I looked down at the hold and felt the warmth from the connection spread up my arm. Maria hadn't held my hand since we were kids. I smiled at her gratefully, something that she responded to with a simple silent smile of her own before pulling me along to the lockers.

* * *

"Hi, Liz."

I turned and was struck by cornflower blue eyes.

Immediately, I felt myself falling. Quickly. A smile spread across my lips and warmth heated my cheeks.

"Hi, Sean," I replied happily.

He leaned against the locker next to mine, putting his head against his arm and letting his eyes travel down my figure. The blush on my cheeks grew deeper.

"So… This Saturday," he mused and caught a strand of my dark hair between his fingers. Rubbing it between his long fingers, he leaned closer to me. "You free?"

I started nodding, for some irrational reason thinking that I was.

"Hey there," Maria said behind me and I practically jumped out of my skin. The startle interrupted the eye contact with Sean and I immediately felt a headache coming on.

"We haven't met," Sean acknowledge towards my friend and I redirected my eyes from my childhood friend to the blond, blue-eyed boy.

"Maria," Maria offered while I admired the blueness of Sean Carter's eyes.

"Sean was just asking me out on a date," I shared cheerfully.

I was partially aware of Maria's odd look on the side of my face, but I chose to ignore it.

"Oh," Maria voiced, surprised. "When's the happy day?"

"Saturday," Sean filled in.

My head nodded along. "Yep."

"No… Lizzie," Maria said slowly.

"What?" I asked fleetingly, distracted by the shape of Sean's lips.

"This weekend is the father-daughter camping trip."

 _Damn._

I shrugged. "That's okay." I fired Sean a bright smile. "I needed an excuse to get out of that anyway."

He chuckled and I melted. "I hear you."

Maria frowned. "No, Liz. Your dad always looks forward to that weekend. You can't cancel on him."

Logic and reason were trying to creep into my brain. I sighed. "Fine."

I turned to Sean and felt disappointment rock my world. I was desperately hoping for a positive answer when I asked, "Rain check?"

He brushed his fingers down my jawline and pleasure rushed through me. "Sure, beautiful." Looking over his shoulder, he straightened before turning back to me. "See you later?"

"Later," I replied and let out a dreamy sigh as he disappeared around the corner.

I turned to look at Maria, who was staring at me with her mouth hanging open.

I frowned. "What?"

"Who the hell was that?" Maria gasped.

"Sean Carter," I replied indubitably.

"Not him," Maria groaned. " _You_."

I felt my annoyance grow. " _What?_ "

"You were acting like some 14-year-old gum-popping girl in braids just having discovered the phenomenon known as boys!"

"Shut up," I mumbled and closed the door to my locker.

"I've never seen you so taken by a boy," Maria said in disbelief. "If I didn't know better, I would've thought you were possessed."

"Ha. Ha. Funny."

"Now," Maria clipped, quickly changing topics, "I want to hear the whole background to that thing with Isabel Evans this morning. And don't you dare leave out any details."

The glowing image of Sean's face was instantly replaced by Max's tortured one and my essence immediately filled out my body, making me feel grounded again.

Nodding towards the canteen, I grabbed her elbow and said, "I'll tell you everything. Come on."

* * *

"Okay," Maria whispered loudly. "I knew that they were different - weird almost - but never in a million years would I think that Max's parents were so…cold."

"It was horrible, Ria," I grimaced. "I was afraid to leave him there."

Maria dragged a piece of cucumber through some ketchup. Back and forth. Back and forth. "And he's not in school today?"

"It worries me," I sighed, looking towards Max, Michael and Isabel's regular table. Only Michael was sitting there today.

"Judging by your description, Max would need at least one day to recuperate from that kind of assault," Maria sensibly pointed out.

I tried to contain the nagging worry and nodded. "You're right."

"Maybe you should visit him. After school," Maria suggested.

Her suggestion caused cold shivers to rush down my entire body. Mr. Evans' cold face flashed in front of my inner eye. What would he do to me if he found me outside of their door, demanding to see his son?

"I'm not so sure," I mumbled, watching the race of Maria's cucumber through the ketchup.

"He's really that scary?" Maria asked with wide eyes.

"Let's just put it this way; I hope I never need surgery," I shuddered.

"I can't believe he's actually a surgeon. That he has sworn to 'Do no harm' while treating his son like that."

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"And what is up with this Sean character?"

My eyes snapped up to her face and my voice sharpened as I demanded, "What do you mean?"

"Why is he suddenly so interested in you? Do we even know him? Like at all?"

"What difference does it make?" I asked defensively.

Maria narrowed her eyes at me. "Why are you getting so worked up about this?"

I shrugged, trying to cool my feelings. "I'm not. It just feels like you're going to say something negative about him. You don't even know him."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Neither do you."

"That's why we need to go on a date," I pointed out.

"His family is loaded," Maria pondered, abandoning the ketchup-soaked cucumber on her plate and licking her fingers clean of ketchup. "I think his dad is military. High up."

I shrugged indifferently. What did that have to do with anything? "So?"

"Just saying," Maria said innocently.

And to think that Max had told me to stay away from Sean Carter. Maybe he was jealous… I laughed at the thought. That would be so funny; Max Evans jealous of Sean Carter? A fight between the riches.

"What's so funny?" Maria asked curiously.

"Max told me to stay away from Sean."

Maria stilled. "He did, did he?"

"Yeah," I giggled. "He said he was" I changed my voice into a 'scary'-voice for dramatic effect, " _dangerous_."

"Hmm," Maria said, her face completely serious.

I let my hands fall flat on the table with a loud thump. "Come on, _what_?"

"I don't know," Maria answered. "Maybe there's a reason. Why would Max Evans warn you about a random dude?"

"I know," I laughed at the absurdity. "It's ridiculous. Here I've been accusing Max of being the dangerous one all these years and then _he_ starts warning me about dangerous people. Ironic."

"Maybe you should be careful with Sean…" Maria said slowly, and there was something in her eyes, as if she was asking me for something.

I looked at her, baffled. "You're serious."

"Yeah."

"You, Maria DeLuca - who have been telling me for _years_ that I should get a life which features dating. And when I finally find someone I would like to date, you think I should be 'careful'."

"Just think about it, Liz," Maria said cautiously.

I was angry and I couldn't really pinpoint why. But I knew _who_ I was angry at. Getting to my feet, I grabbed the tray and stepped away from the table.  
"Where're you going?" Maria asked, surprised.

"I'm full," I replied and left her without another word.

* * *

"Hey, Sean! Sean!" I desperately waved my hand in the air to get the boy's attention.

Okay, maybe I was mostly doing this to spite Maria. Who was she anyway to tell me what to do? It was such a double standard. She had always been telling me to live more in the moment, to enjoy life, to kiss some random boys etc. etc. So why, when I finally found a potential person to do all of that with, was she displeased?

Sean turned at the sound of my voice, surprise marking his beautiful face. "Liz?"

"Hey," I breathed with a tired smile, trying to prevent myself from panting. Panting was very unattractive.

He smiled, his eyes lighting up like Christmas lights. "What's up?"

Being struck by a sudden shyness, I dropped my eyes and mumbled, "How about tonight?"

I could hear the frown in his voice as he repeated, "'Tonight'?"

I looked up into those beautiful blue eyes and nodded, "Date. Tonight."

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "But it's a school night."

I shrugged. "So? Are you picking me up or what?"

He chuckled. "When you put it that way…" A smile lingered on his mouth as he added, "7 p.m.? Outside of the CrashDown?"

I smiled with my whole being. "It's a date."

* * *

"My parents never really spent much time with me," Sean admitted, dipping a french fry in his milkshake.

I scrunched my nose at the act and he laughed. "What?"

"Does that really taste good?" I asked.

There was a twinkle in his eye as he grabbed another deep fried potato strip and dipped it in his strawberry milkshake. The milky mixture dripped on the table surface as he transported the fry across the table separating us.

"Here; taste it," he encouraged and I opened my mouth on demand, getting slight enjoyment out of seeing his pupils widen and darken as his eyes were transfixed on the piece of potato entering my mouth.

It was weird. Salty, sweet, oily and soggy. But not…too…bad.

"So?" he prompted, waiting for my verdict.

I chewed and shrugged, playing it down. "It was okay."

"Come on," he smiled. "You loved it."

I giggled and picked up my half-eaten hamburger to take another bite, letting the silence speak for me. He shook his head, bemused, and took a sip from his milkshake.

"So what about _your_ parents? Overbearing? Overprotective? Nagging? Boring?"

I put the hamburger down and licked my fingers, noticing his eyes on me halfway through the motion. That familiar blush crept back on my cheeks and I grabbed the napkin to finish off the cleaning process.

"They're actually really great. I guess they've always trusted me to be responsible, giving me freedom." I shrugged. "I guessed it worked; I've always aimed to live up to their expectations, so naturally I became responsible."

He leaned in, a grin on his lips, "How many rules have you broken tonight then, Ms. Parker?"

My stomach clenched and my breath stilled. _Ms. Parker_. That's what Max always called me. The thought of him made me hesitate, made me question why I was here - at Joe's Diner on a Tuesday. I hadn't even let my parents know where I was going, just letting them assume that I would be at Maria's.

"Too many," someone answered in my place and I froze.

My eyes were transfixed on Sean's face and I was, for some reason, unable to direct them towards the person who had answered in my place. I watched Sean's eyes narrow in irritation, his blue eyes turning stormy, but his eyes kept locked with mine.

"Let her go," the voice said again, delivered in a growl, and there was no mistaking its owner this time.

Max Evans had entered the building.


	10. TEN

**TEN**

My heart struck a double beat and I suddenly felt really warm. I wanted to curl my clammy hands into my thighs nervously, but I couldn't move. I had a fleeting thought of something being terribly wrong, but it was gone from my mind before I could catch it.

I watched Sean's lips turn into a smirk and was slightly confounded by the fact that I found that very attractive, very sexy. A tremble went through my body.

"Do you mind, Evans?" Sean snarled. "We would like to be alone."

My back was starting to hurt from the straight positioning of my spine and I wanted to react when Max's warm and solid body sat down next to me. I wanted to scoot over to give him room, or just turn my head to glare at him for invading this personal date, but I was glued to the seat. Instead, the side of Max's body molded against mine in the crammed booth and my breathing escalated with awareness.

"Liz," Max addressed me and I craved to look at him.

Was he okay? Was he healing alright?

But the thoughts were forcibly pushed out of my head until I could only register Sean's beautiful eyes, his soft lips, the attractive lines of his jaw-

"Liz," Max said again and cradled my chin in his hand, intending to turn my head away from Sean.

It was like swinging a door in the wrong direction, against the hinges.

"Carter," Max hissed and I shivered at his tone as I tried to relax my neck. Why couldn't I turn my head?

Maybe he was afraid of hurting me or maybe the resistance in my neck stopped him, but Max's warm fingers left my chin and I finally got a view of Max - of the back of his head - as he lunged across the table and grabbed Sean by the collar.

" _Let. Her. Go._ "

As I lost sight of Sean's eyes with Max blocking my view, my strained body fell limply back against the cushion of the seat and I blinked my dry eyes.

"Chill, Evans," I heard Sean say as I flexed and straightened my fingers, before I looked at Max's profile, of his body reaching over the table, of the redness of the skin at the back of his neck and the way his thin T-shirt was outlining his prominent back muscles.

I took a deep shuddering breath, before putting my hands on his back, fisting a part of the T-shirt in my hand for leverage, and pulled. "Max…" I licked my lips. Why was my voice shaking? Why was I so tired? Why was my head pounding? "Max. Calm down."

Max tensed at my voice, shook Sean once more by the collar and then followed the pull of my hand on his shirt, leaning back in the seat. My reaction was too slow, my hand still against his back as he leaned back. The pressure of his back against my hand as it was pressed between the cushion and his body exhilarated my breathing.

I felt dizzy.

He reached between us and grabbed me gently by the wrist, rescuing my hand from the position, even though I wasn't convinced I wanted it to be rescued.

I finally got to look at him. I swallowed as his dark eyes came into view. There was so many emotions on display in his eyes that I felt like I was falling. He didn't say anything, just silently letting his eyes search my face. I tore my eyes from his and took in the rest of his appearance. The almost healed cut on his lip, the normal healthy appearance of his nose, the light bruising around his right eye, the taped wound at the top of his forehead.

"You look…" I croaked and had to clear my throat.

The emotional whirl disappeared from his eyes and he smirked, oddly enough making me feel at ease. I was familiar with this version of Max Evans.

"…devastatingly handsome?" he filled in and I couldn't stop the smile from touching my lips.

"Your wounds…?" I whispered, letting all the questions linger, knowing that Sean was watching us.

Max shrugged and answered lightly, dismissing my concern, "Dad does good work."

A chill rushed down my spine at the mention of Mr. Evans. But I didn't feel like asking Max anything further about it; not with an audience.

"Who did you piss off, Evans?" Sean asked. "Did you crash someone else's date?"

Max looked away from me, but my eyes kept categorizing his wounds, questioning their healing speed.

"So," Max drawled and relaxed his body, ignoring Sean's taunt, and my heart clenched as he put his left arm around my shoulders possessively as he stared at Sean. "You're on a date, huh?"

"And you're fucking intruding," Sean bit off, his voice darkening, making me look at him. His face was not as beautiful as it normally was; the anger made it almost ugly.

"A date," Max mocked, fingering the seam of my shirt where it crossed my left shoulder. "At Joe's Diner?" He laughed harshly. "Classy."

"It was just a spur of the moment thing," I said, feeling the need to defend Sean.

"I'm sure it was," Max mused, not looking at me.

It was like watching a battle of something dangerous and forceful, making me feel like the odd man out - like the third wheel. An unspoken challenge was silently simmering between the men and I was at a loss about my role in the situation.

"Just move along, Evans," Sean said darkly. "I'm sure there some gullible girl you could charm the pants off around here somewhere."

His comment smarted. It didn't seem to faze Max, but I was deeply disturbed by the thought of Max searching out some other girl.

But why would I be? Max and I were not a thing. We barely knew each other.

"I'm quite comfortable here, thank you," Max replied, picking up the menu from the table surface.

Sean exhaled loudly, "You must be kidding me!"

"Max," I pleaded, hoping that he somewhere deep inside knew that it was not civil to intrude on someone else's date.

"I'm hungry," Max announced and looked directly at me. His eyes were serious, in sharp contrast to his amused statement, and I got the feeling that he was trying to communicate something to me.

"Then go and sit somewhere else," Sean sighed, sounding both tired and resigned as he made a sweeping gesture with his hand towards the interior of the, mostly empty, diner.

Max's hand locked around my shoulder and squeezed gently. The narrowing of Sean's eyes told me that he had noticed.

"I'm quite comfortable here actually," Max said simply.

Sean threw his hands in the air, angry red spots forming on his cheeks, and I watched his mouth open in an imminent explosion and decided to attempt to avert that said disaster.

With one sweeping motion I brushed Max's arm off my shoulders and turned in my seat to face him. With all the irritation I could muster at the moment, I told him to, "Leave. You're being rude."

Max's eyes narrowed as he appraised me silently for about three seconds before, "I'm hungry. I don't see anyone else here that I know." He gave me a charming half-crooked smile and turned on the puppy eyes to add, "You won't make me eat all alone, will you?"

"Dude - it's a _date_ ," Sean cried out. "As in _two_ people getting to know each other. _Two._ "

I pointed towards a collection of empty booths. "Go away, Evans."

He seemed to consider this seriously for a moment before he rose from the seat, and I was surprised to be disappointed that he had obeyed my order.

He bent slightly at the waist and did a flourish gesture with his arm in the imitation of a knightly bow. "Your wish is my command, Ms. Parker."

"For fuck's sake…" Sean grumbled under his breath.

"I won't go far," Max added, looking straight at Sean and it was impossible to miss the underlying warning.

"No, that would be too normal for you," Sean said acidly, lifting his milkshake in a salute towards Max. "Bye bye, Maxie."

Max raised an amused eyebrow, before sauntering over to a nearby table and raising his hand to attract the service of a waitress.

I looked over at Sean. The anger and frustration were still very evident in his body language as he folded his arms across his chest and tightened his mouth.

"What was that about?" I asked, having the strangest feeling that the whole incident hadn't been about me. Well, not only about me.

Sean shrugged, released his arms and reached for the remainder of his hamburger. Before shoving the last two bites into his mouth he said, "We used to be best friends."

Really? As far back as I could remember, Michael Guerin had been Max's friend. I didn't remember seeing Sean as part of the constellation.

"What happened?" I asked, steadily swirling my soda with the straw.

Sean chewed his large bite of hamburger, avoiding my eyes, and took a sip from the milkshake before looking up at me. "We had a…disagreement."

I wanted to ask about what. I wanted to know every single detail. I couldn't understand this curiosity of mine. That was usually Maria's forte, not mine. But incidentally, everything that seemed to concern Max Evans and my suspected vampires, gravely piqued my interest.

Unfortunately, I could tell that Sean wasn't up to being very forthcoming about the details. So I just said, "Uh-huh," and hoped that he would willingly supply me with the details.

Sean shrugged the whole thing off, clarifying, "It was a long time ago. I've put it behind me; apparently Evans hasn't."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"About what?"

"I have a feeling I'm somewhat to blame for this whole thing."

He shook his head, crystal blue eyes tracing my face. "You have nothing to apologize for. He's pissed with me, not you."

He dropped his eyes to the table surface, his shoulders slumping forward slightly, making him look vulnerable as he mumbled, "He's got a thing for you, you know."

I felt myself blush with embarrassment and mimicked his stance. I gave an insecure laugh. "No, he doesn't."

Sean raised his eyes and I felt prompted to do the same. "A lot of people have got a thing for you."

I honestly laughed at this, picked up a french fry and threw it at him. "Stop that. That's mean."

He retrieved my thrown weapon and put it in his mouth. "What is?"

"Lying. No one's interested in me. If they were, how come you're the first person that's ever taken me on a date?"

My heart dropped to my stomach at my own statement. Had I just said that? Admitted to being practically un-dateable? What had made me say that? Oh God. Earth, swallow me up right now.

"Because they're all idiots?" Sean suggested.

"Maybe," I agreed, wanting to leave this topic, and leaned across the table. I lowered my voice conspiratorially and subtly hitched my thumb in Max's direction, "But I can promise you this; that guy _does not_ have a thing for me."

His eyes burned into mine wordlessly and just as I was about to pull back, he closed the distance, fusing our lips together.

His lips were soft and wet. I could feel his one-day stubble against my chin as he pressed harder, his tongue demanding entrance to my mouth.

This was my first kiss. Well, if you discounted the experimental one with Alex when we were younger.

Was it supposed to feel like this? Wet and uncomfortable? With the threat of teeth bumping, noses being in the way, not knowing what to do?

I wanted to pull back, being uncomfortably shocked by his forwardness, but I couldn't. As my lips started to open to let his exploring tongue in, something bumped my shoulder and I startled backwards, breaking the contact with Sean's lips.

"Sorry," Max's voice declared with exaggerated cheerfulness, and with a racing heart and panting lungs I watched Max's body lean between me and Sean, reaching for the salt and pepper shakers on our table.

I couldn't look at Sean as Max continued, "I just need to borrow these."

I felt humiliated. Max had seen that. Max had definitely seen us kissing. And it had dropped my heart to my feet in embarrassment.

"You've got a message," Max said next and I experimentally licked my lips, my eyes to the table. In my attempt to get over the fact that I had just been kissed, which had given me very mixed feelings, I wasn't really registering Max's words.

Then his hand was on my shoulder, scorching through the material of my shirt. "Hey. Liz."

I raised my eyes to him, feeling like I was about to cry, and blinked dozily, "What?"

"Your phone," Max replied, giving me that look again. That intense, 1000 volts look that seared through my body, dimming out everything around us until it was just the two of us. "It was vibrating."

"Oh," I whispered and snapped to life. "Oh!"

I reached for the phone next to me on the table and noticed one missed call from my dad (damn!) and a text message from Maria.

 _I guess I didn't get the memo,  
but your old man just called me to speak to you.  
I said you were in the bathroom.  
You're welcome._

No emojis had been used. Not a single smiley. Maria was pissed.

"Crap," I mumbled and looked up to see that Max had moved away from the table and instead found Sean staring at me. Blush rose on my cheeks, recollecting what had just transpired between us.

I held my phone up and explained, "I have to go."

"Liz, if-" Sean started insecurely.

"My dad's looking for me," I interrupted, and repeated, "I have to go."

Sean jumped up from his seat and grabbed his jacket. "I'll drive you."

"No," Max said, suddenly appearing at my side. "That's way out of your way, Carter. I can take her."

I looked between Sean and Max, feeling the tension escalate again until Sean was basically shooting daggers out of his eyes.

"It's no trouble, Evans," Sean said calmly, through clenched teeth.

In a way I didn't want Sean to take me. I felt embarrassed about what had happened. But at the same time; Max driving me was not necessarily a better alternative.

"Her house is on my way," Max replied.

"She's my date," Sean said possessively. "I'll be taking her home."

"No," Max said simply and I shivered. The authority in that one syllable scared me.

Looking at Sean, I could tell that he had picked up on the finality of that word as well. His face was reddening with anger, but still he ground out an agreement, "Fine."

"Excellent," Max said with a smile, his mood changes giving me whiplash. He turned to me, took my jacket out of my hands and held it up for me to put my arms through it.

"Eh, okay," I mumbled.

This was officially the weirdest night of my life.

I let Max help me on with the jacket before I turned to him and said, "I'd like a minute alone with Sean."

Max didn't seem too pleased with this, but nodded and shot Sean a look that spoke volumes before he walked out of the diner.

"Sorry about that," I said to Sean when we were left alone.

Sean's face softened and he stepped up to me, taking a hold of the collar of my jacket and gently pulling me closer. His face was barely an inch from mine as he mumbled, "Stop apologizing. It's not your fault that he's a jackass."

 _My_ jackass, I thought. The thought surprised me, making my heart squeeze in longing to join Max outside of the diner.

"I guess," I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable with Sean being within my personal space.

"Hey," he urged, placing two fingers below my chin to direct my look upwards. "Look at me."

So I did. And I fell. The discomfort at his proximity melted away, the blue of his eyes brightened and his face became angelic. I sighed in comfortable bliss. It was so good to be close to him.

He brought his lips to mine again in a gentle caress and heat blazed through me. He pulled back and caught my eyes again, "I'll see you tomorrow? At school?"

I timidly licked my lips and nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay," he smiled, took a step back and let go of my jacket.

* * *

"Are you okay?"

I was startled by his question as I hopped into the passenger seat of his car.

"Yeah," I answered breathlessly, pushing some errant hair out of my face. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I felt his eyes on the side of my face, but I kept my eyes looking forward, through the windshield.

"Good," he said and I chilled as his eyes left mine and the car hummed to life.

We sat in silence for a minute or two, my eyes unseeingly tracing the dark surroundings swishing by the outside of the car.

"You didn't have to drive me, you know," I said then. "I think Sean had it covered."

Max basically snorted. But there wasn't anything humorous about the sound. "He had it covered all right."

I frowned, immediately getting defensive. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Max grumbled, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. His mouth was set in a tight thin line and I came to think of the 'disagreement' that Sean had mentioned.

"You used to be friends," I stated.

The knuckles of his hands were turning white from his grip on the steering wheel. "So?"

"Sean told me that you had a falling out."

"You can say that," Max said tightly.

It was not that difficult to discern that I wouldn't be getting any answers from Max either. So I let the topic drop.

"What were you doing there? At the diner?"

His eyes were fixed on the road as he shrugged, "I was hungry."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Who walks up and interrupts an obvious date anyway?" I asked rhetorically, the suppressed anger from before coming to life.

He turned his head to wink at me. I sighed internally.

"Me, apparently."

"Why?" I demanded, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.

"I told you to stay away from him." The playfulness was gone from his voice, his eyes back on the road.

"No," I objected. "You told me he was dangerous."

"Same shit."

"Maybe if you would tell me _why_ he was dangerous, I would actually trust your judgment."

"He's manipulative," Max answered shortly.

I couldn't stop myself. I laughed.

He looked at me, annoyed. "What's so funny?"

"'He's manipulative'? I guess it takes one to know one."

"I'm not manipulative," Max objected, looking away from me again.

"In a way, you really are," I said, thinking about how he commonly used his charms to get his way. "And secretive. Very secretive."

"Everyone has secrets."

"But yours are…out of this world," I mumbled and was surprised when his head whipped in my direction at my sentence before a small secret smile grazed his lips.

"I guess you could say that."

"What _are_ you hiding, Evans?" I asked, biting my lower lip.

"I could tell you," he said slowly, a faint smile brushing his lips, "But of course; then I would have to kill you."

I smiled. "Of course."

I could only stay quiet for approximately four seconds.

"So," I said, afraid to ask but unable to stop myself, "what's up with your dad?"

"Is there no end to all of your questions?" Max asked, a tightness to his voice.

But I wouldn't let his change of mood stop me. After what I went through when dropping him off, I thought I deserved some answers.

"No," I answered simply and thought I caught him roll his eyes. I straightened in my seat, tucking the hair behind my ears. "Why was he upset with you when you were clearly injured?"

"He naturally thought I had gotten into a fight," Max said evenly. Too evenly. I frowned.

Max glanced at me before returning his attention to the road. "Dad hates fights. He sees enough victims of stupid violence as it is working at a hospital."

"So did you?" I asked, my eyes tracing the faint signs of his ordeal.

"Did I what?" he asked.

"Get into a fight?"

I could see his jaw muscles clench beneath his skin. "You should see the other guy." He was attempting a smile, but I wasn't really buying into it.

"I don't have to," I said quietly. "Seeing you was bad enough."

"It was not that bad," he dismissed lightly.

"Yes, Max," I said seriously. "It was."

I would probably never get his swollen and bloody face out of my mind.

"Whatever," he mumbled and I inhaled deeply.

Not much of a chatterbox, was he? At least not when it concerned topics he wasn't that comfortable with.

"Still, your father shouldn't have reacted like that. You needed someone to look after you, to be nice to you. You were…" I swallowed.

He tensed next to me and breathed quietly, "What?", wanting me to finish the sentence.

"You were completely broken. It was horrible to see you like that. The last thing you needed was to be yelled at."

There was a moment of silence, before Max said, "You don't know him. He's not a bad person."

I huffed. "Could have fooled me."

I expected him to get annoyed with my refusal of his attempt at excusing his father's behavior, but instead he surprised me by saying, "Thank you for sticking up for me."

I remembered stepping in front of him, shielding him from his own father, and I flushed. What had possessed me to do that? As if I had been willing to sacrifice my own safety to keep Max safe.

Preposterous.

"Sure," I mumbled, uncomfortable.

Max cleared his throat and I stole a glance at him, pretty sure that he was also uncomfortable. The thought of suave and confident Max Evans being uncomfortable made my heart skip a beat. It was like I could glimpse behind the facade he put up.

"We're here," he announced, startling me out of my reverie.

I looked out the window and could see "The CrashDown" flash in neon lettering. Max rolled the car to a stop and I bit my lip as I reached to open the door.

"Uhm, thanks for the lift, I guess," I said.

"Yeah," he said lightly.

I looked at him briefly (he was looking straight ahead at the restaurant), before stepping out of the car.


	11. ELEVEN

**ELEVEN**

Mom was almost back to her normal self. Apparently sleeping for 13 hours straight fixed most ailments.

I couldn't help but watch her like a hawk though. There were still some things that were off. How she could be acting perfectly normal one second but then get weak and almost faint in the middle of doing the dishes. How she could start slurring her words halfway through an eloquent conversation and still manage to finish the sentence with her speech unaffected.

There were a lot of shared concerned looks between my father and I during that week (even dad had foregone rationalizing the whole thing), but my mother dismissed our apprehension with laughter, claiming that she should really start getting some more sleep. And that she should finally start eating healthier. And exercise. Plus, take some extra vitamins.

Her excuses nauseated me, because I knew deep down in the core of my being that something was very wrong. Something that could not be fixed by adding some magnesium and vitamin D to her diet.

My mother's mysterious condition scattered my thoughts, made me unfocused and on edge. Hence, the week passed in a blur, where I barely registered Sean's attempts at making eye contact or Max's gaze following me down the corridor. Even Maria faded into the background, but I wasn't sure she even noticed. After all, Alex had returned from his family trip and they had a lot of catching up to do.

That's how I found myself in my room on Friday evening, staring at my opened wardrobe, wondering what to pack for the camping trip which I really didn't want to attend. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with dad. Because I did.

The truth was; I didn't want to leave mom alone.

The camping adventure was an annual thing with the aim of getting fathers to spend more time with their daughters. I probably spent more time with my dad than most girls my age (considering that I didn't only share his blood but also his workplace), but my dad nevertheless loved this camping expedition.

I think it was mostly because he could hang out with the other fathers, telling stories in front of a campfire while sizzling sausages over the embers.

But I could tell that my dad wasn't feeling that much up to the camping trip this year either, even though he was putting on a happy face. Dad wouldn't straight out tell me, but it was a no-brainer that he was really worried about his wife's irregular and on-and-off deteriorating condition.

I pulled out a thick sweatshirt and sighed. Let's get the packing over with.

* * *

"So, you and Sean Carter, huh?" Emma asked me.

I bent down to pick up a stick for the fire and sighed mentally. We'd only been on the campsite for two hours and already I was hating all this socializing. But mostly, I hated to not be able to just hang with my friends. Maria's father abandoned her and her mother when Maria was four, so being fatherless disqualified Maria from this trip. And Alex - well, Alex was a boy. This was merely for girls and their fathers.

Which meant that I was stuck gathering material for the campfire with Emma Kingston and Pamela Troy. Basically, I was stuck gathering material with the gossip mill of Roswell High.

"Not really," I said evasively.

"Lisa saw you two kissing at Joe's Diner," Pam pointed out.

I forced myself not to glare at the blonde and instead bent to retrieve another stick off the ground. "She did, huh?"

"Come on, don't be all mysterious," Emma said. "Give us something."

"I heard that she's also dating Max Evans," Pam said, suddenly referring to me as if I was no longer present.

"That, I don't believe," Emma stated, sounding somewhat offended.

From this I concluded that it was okay for someone like me to date someone like Sean Carter, but not Max Evans. Max Evans was very much out of my league. I was neither a cheerleader nor an airhead.

"Don't you ever get tired of butting into everyone else's business?" I asked, turning to go back to the campsite. I was done gathering sticks with these people.

The girls apparently ignored my question, instead starting to talk amongst themselves.

"There's seriously no way that Liz Parker can have both Sean and Max interested in her. At the same time."

"No one's ever been attracted to her before."

I rolled my eyes. _Hello? Standing right here._ But I couldn't even be bothered to tell them that obvious fact.

"Maybe there's a bet going on."

"Oh. Oh," Pam jumped excitedly. "Like in that movie-" she snapped her fingers in the search of the title "-uhm…"

"'She's All That'," I supplied, bored now. How could it be so boring to listen to two bimbos discussing my life?

"Right!" Pam erupted.

"No no," Emma objected. "I wasn't talking about a make-over. That's what they do in that movie, right? They make that nerdy girl look attractive and suddenly the guy sees her and falls for her. Ugh." Emma made a gagging noise.

"Unrealistic," Pam pointed out.

"Yeah, really," Emma agreed and hitched her head in my direction. "Liz has not changed at all. No make-over."

"Your point being?" I asked.

"Maybe the bet is to take her virginity," Emma said and I exhaled loudly in annoyance.

Really?

I hated high school.

"You _are_ a virgin, right?" Pam asked and both girls turned globe-sized eyes on me while they waited for my answer.

"So let me get this straight," I sighed. "You think that the most plausible reason for two guys to be interested in me is just to win a bet about being the first one to get into my pants?"

Emma looked at her doppelgänger and nodded slowly. "Yeah…yeah, it actually would make sense."

"You're right," I said, putting on an honest and uncomfortable expression. "You are most likely 100% right."

Pam's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "They told you? About the bet?"

"No," I replied, tightening my grip on the sticks gathered in my arms. "But you just made all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place."

"I _knew_ it," Emma declared gleefully and I almost expected her to high-five her friend.

Was it really that impossible to fathom that two guys could be interested in me?

Not that I believed it myself. Sure, Sean had shown obvious interest and even made a move or two. But Max… I didn't know what Max wanted; couldn't understand him at all.

It wouldn't surprise me if the vampire had a bet going with his friends though. But I was pretty sure he was not in a bet with Sean - there was just too much bad blood between them.

"Who are you gonna pick?" Pam asked, bringing me back from my thoughts.

I stared at her in disbelief. They were seriously discussing that two guys had made a bet to take my virginity and that I would - now that I found out - happily chose who it would be. A normal person would never want to see either guy ever again after finding out, but apparently the girls standing in front of me, looking at me expectantly, were not normal.

"Why choose?" I asked with a shrug, turned on my heel and left them to figure that one out.

* * *

I plopped down on top of my sleeping bag next to dad, groaning, "Save me."

"Did you have fun with the girls?" my dad asked with a grin. Just like the camping trip was an annual tradition, so was me being forced to hang out with those same girls. The result was always the same; me irreparably damaged for several days afterward.

"We had a marvelous time," I replied, my voice muffled against the sleeping bag.

"Learn anything new about hair dyes?" dad asked somberly.

I supported my head in my left hand as I rolled onto my side and looked at my dad. "No, but quite a lot about boys and sex."

My father blanched and I laughed. "Relax, Daddy."

He searched my face and gave the appearance of relaxing, but to my amusement I could tell that he was still trying to figure out if there had been any truth in my statement.

"Maybe these camping trips are not that healthy for you, after all," dad grumbled and I smiled, reaching behind me to grab my backpack and pulled out a thick chemistry book.

I could feel my dad's eyes on me and practically hear the raised eyebrow in his question as he asked, "You're studying?"

"Sorry," I smiled at him apologetically. "I haven't got much done this week because of…" my voice faltered and dad filled in.

"Because of mom."

I nodded and swallowed, my throat drying up. "Yeah." I opened the book to my bookmark and added, "And I have this huge test coming up next week."

"Okay," dad said and rose from his sleeping bag. He bent down and kissed me on the forehead, saying, "I'll just go and hang out with the dads then."

I smiled at him, "You do that," knowing that it wasn't really a sacrifice on his behalf.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said softly, looking out the window at the passenger side. "I know you really like these camping trips."

I hadn't meant to cut it short, but as I had started to skim through the chemistry notes, I had been struck with the growing anxiety and panic about how much there still was to study and how little time I had to do it. My dad, being the father he was, had taken one look at me and decided that we should leave early the next morning.

Now, on Sunday morning, the sun had barely made it up over the horizon yet, but both my dad and I were early risers. We liked it that way. The serene quiet and stillness of the early morning, the fresh morning smells and the illusion that you were all alone in the world.

"School comes first, honey," my dad said, shooting me a soft smile. "I wouldn't want you to miss out on Harvard just because I wanted to spend another day in the wilderness."

I shook my head with a smile, "I think- well, I _hope_ that it will take more than a camping trip to harm my chances of going to university."

"I know, baby," he said and sighed. "I just don't like seeing you so stressed out." He turned on the indicator as we got closer to the main road leading into Roswell. "Besides, I wouldn't mind getting home to your mom a bit earlier anyway."

"Yeah," I said softly, refocusing my unseeing gaze on the passing landscape. "You and me both."

I fought the motion sickness that was rising in my throat as I turned another page in the heavy book pressing heavily against my thighs. Reading while riding a car was never a very good idea.

"How's everything with Maria and Alex?" my dad asked, pulling me from the text.

"They're okay," I answered vaguely, my attention still on the diagram on the right page.

"Alex was just on a trip somewhere?"

I nodded. Alex's family was one of the (many) well-off families in Roswell. He didn't like to make a show out of it and through all the years I've known him, he had never acted stuck up or condescending about his background and life. He was one of the most down-to-earth people I knew.

"They went to Europe…" I lifted my head from the book in contemplation, "…Portugal, I think." I shrugged. "Just for a couple of days."

"Ah-ha," my dad said and thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

I could tell that there was something on his mind; and it most likely did not concern the Whitman's spare time activities.

"And you? How are you?" he asked, getting it out there.

My dad and I rarely talked about feelings. We had a really great relationship and I loved him to death, but I didn't share everything with my dad. Mostly because it seemed to make him a bit uncomfortable and nervous.

Just like he was now.

I looked at him and gave him a soft smile, thanking him for asking. "I'm fine, Dad."

"Any…" my dad cleared his throat, "Any boys in your life?"

A breath of amusement escaped me, the smile lingering, while I looked out the window - turning my face away from my dad. "Not really."

"Ah, okay," my dad said, sounding even more uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, Daddy," I said, looking at him. "I haven't joined the big leagues yet."

A faint blush reached his cheeks as my comment hit bullseye. He was, like most fathers with daughters my age, a bit nervous about me dating. I don't know why I didn't tell him about my date with Sean right then.

Maybe I was hesitant to make him uncomfortable or maybe I didn't want to deal with the follow-up questions. Maybe I just didn't want to share that with my dad. Especially not since I didn't know if the "thing" with Sean was going anywhere or not.

The whole Sean-thing still confused me. It was like my feelings couldn't hatch onto anything. I couldn't remember ever being interested in Sean before he approached me last week. I had barely noticed him. It was odd to me that my feelings for him were so strong and immediate. But even more odd that, when I thought about it, I couldn't quite recollect those feelings. They were much stronger when I was with him. Right now, the whole thing with Sean seemed vague and distant.

"It wouldn't be a worry," my dad said, interrupting my pondering.

I raised an incredulous eyebrow at him, silently asking 'Really?'.

He chuckled at my wordless gesture and added, "Seriously, Lizzie. I just want you to be happy. And being a part of everything that comes with being a teenager is very important. I want you to fully enjoy life. You know, this is the beginning of the best years of your life."

I pursed my lips. Huh? Who would've thought? My dad was practically telling me to go out there and be a teenager - with everything it might entail.

"You mean to tell me that I should throw a party at home when you guys are away, invite 50 or so other teenagers, get ridiculously drunk, throw up in the bush somewhere and hook up with some random guy?"

His eyes widened in shock and his head snapped to me so quickly that I burst out in laughter.

"Kidding!" I promised loudly and after another moment of shellshock, my dad joined my laughter.

"Hmph, I hope I didn't just tell you that," he said when his laughter ebbed.

I felt happy for the first time in two weeks. I loved this. Loved hanging out with my dad. Loved the unconditional love and not having to analyze and second-guess everything I was saying.

Parents were so much easier to handle than boys.

"Not in so many words," I smiled. "But…" my smile turned softer as I looked at him with adoration. "…thank you for saying that. I'll try and live a bit more."

He opened his mouth to protest, to let me know that he didn't mean it like that, but I cut him off with, " _After_ this chemistry test."

He chuckled and returned his attention to the road. "Yeah."

Anyone who is used to getting up early, before everyone else, instantly recognizes that morning smell in the air. A freshness which is yet untainted by the day to come.

Anyone who is used to getting up early can testament that the smell of fire is not part of that untainted morning smell.

I frowned as the smell made its way into the car, through the ventilation. I surveyed the outside of the car, searching for the cause of the smell and my heart jumped as I saw the thick tower of smoke rising from the center of the city.

"Look," I whispered and cleared my throat to strengthen it against the building panic, "Dad."

"I see it," he answered quietly.

"Where is it coming from?" I asked, a really bad feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. I reached forward and turned off the ventilation, preventing any more strong smoke from reaching us.

"I don't know," my dad replied. "Somewhere in the center, I would presume."

"That's a lot of smoke," I said, staring at the cone of smoke.

Both dad and I were hushed in shock as we continued down the main street. I could feel the car accelerating, and I knew without a doubt that my dad was trying to reach the place of the smoke as fast as possible.

After all, we might be the first ones on the site. We might need to help someone.

I shivered and hugged my arms around my upper body. I hated fire. Wild, untamed, dangerous and lethal. It scared me.

But what scared me more than fire ever could was the fact that we were not just directing the car towards the fire, but also towards our home. I was desperately waiting for us to turn, to get off the street that was right then directing us towards The CrashDown, but the fire wanted otherwise.

"No…" I whispered, tears automatically building in my eyes as we rounded the last block before our house.

Our home was on fire.

The thick black smoke was billowing out of cracked windows of the second floor and the bright orange of heated flames lit up the inside of my parents' bedroom.

I don't know what was running through my father's head - if he were as terrified as I - but he brought the car to a panicked stop and I was tumbling out of the car just the fraction of a second thereafter.

My legs felt like jelly as I moved towards the crumbling building. I could feel the heat from where I was, burning the air around me.

"No…" I croaked.

Mom…

" _Moom!_ "


	12. TWELVE

**TWELVE**

My dad grabbed my upper arm and jerked me sharply backwards. "Liz."

I stared at the house I've grown up in, being devoured by hungry fire, with tears blurring my vision. My whole body was trembling with fear, and panic was racing through my veins.

"No," I cried and ripped out of his grip. I swirled to look at him and was only momentarily taken aback by the matching fear on his face, before I pointed towards the house and cried, "Is mom in there?"

"I'm gonna call 911," my dad answered, his voice raspy and unrecognizable.

I found myself frustrated and angry with his reply and I repeated with a tearing sob, " _Is she?_ "

"You need to wait here," my dad said, still ignoring the question he couldn't answer. "Don't go any closer to the house."

"We have to help her," I yelled and started towards the house.

My dad's arms were instantly around my waist and my back was pressed up against his front. His tight embrace broke the small resolve I still had on my feelings and I went limp in his lock, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Baby," he said against my ear and his voice was surprisingly calm, echoing through my ears as though from a distance. "I'm gonna try and get closer and see if there's anyone at home, okay? And call 911. But you," he placed a light kiss on my cheek and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut against the onslaught of love it brought, "need to stay here. Okay?" He slowly released the grip on my body and I struggled to remain standing as he took a step back. "Promise me?"

I looked up at the burning house, watched small pieces of my home fly off in the morning wind as they burnt brightly with ember, and knew that it wasn't a promise I would be able to keep.

But still, I nodded. "I promise."

"Stay here," my dad repeated with emphasis and I nodded again, my eyes glued to my worst nightmare.

I was partially aware of my dad getting into the car to retrieve his cell phone as my eyes landed on the balcony. My balcony. The one that was big enough to be a terrace, situated on top of the dining area of the restaurant below. My eyes moved to the windows of my bedroom, the _intact_ windows of my bedroom. There was no smoke coming from my room; the fire had not reached it. Yet.

Looking at the entrance to our home, to the side of the restaurant, I realized that the small window next to the front door was cracked letting me know that the heat was too great to be confined. Alas, the front door was not a good way in.

But my room was.

I glanced behind me and saw my dad's back turned towards me, holding the phone to his ear.

The only thing that was going through my mind when I turned my eyes back towards the fire was that I had to save mom. Considering how fast this fire was eating through our house, the fire department would be too late.

I only had a split second to decide what to do, but the promise to my dad was not a difficult one to break.

I took a deep breath and ran. My goal was the ladder going up to my balcony.

I didn't look back to see if anyone (my dad) was following me. Once I got closer to the house, I couldn't hear if anyone was following me; the sound of fire munching on organic material was too loud.

I couldn't tell you how I got up the ladder or into my room, but I suddenly found myself staring at the doorknob separating me from the rest of the house. The smoke was creeping into my room and I was already having trouble breathing.

Coughing, I pulled the hem of my sweater down over my hand (old movie knowledge told me that the knob would be warm) before closing it around the handle. The heat spread through the hem and the lock shivered as I lost the grip, basically propelling the knob out of locked position.

I pushed on the door with my foot and pulled the sweater up to cover my mouth. The black smoke swirled around me, attacking me like a dense wall until it flowed freely around me, greedily seeking the oxygen seeping in from my bedroom.

I started coughing, the smoke obscured my vision and made my eyes tear. I blinked, trying to see where I was. But it was dark. So dark.

"Mom," I called out, unintentionally opening an entrance for the smoke to my lungs and I coughed violently, my heart freezing in fear as the heat increased around my body.

I felt my way through the TV-room, stumbling against the edge of our armchair, afraid that my hands would encounter the softness of a human body. What if my mom was really here? Lying dead on the floor?

My lungs were aching, I couldn't see a thing, and I was getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen in the carbon dioxide enriched environment. I was bumping my shins, my knees and my thighs into various pieces of furniture, but I didn't notice. I was following the heat like a guiding beacon. The saying of _you're getting warmer…_ had taken on a new meaning.

"Mom," I croaked. My vocal cords were already suffering the repercussions of inhaling the smoke, and there was no chance in hell that anyone could hear me over the noise of the fire.

I was starting to question what I was doing here.

Maybe mom had already made it out. Maybe she hadn't even been in the house when the fire had begun.

But still - it was too early in the morning for her to be anywhere else but here.

I stumbled, the oxygen-deprived dizziness increasing. My legs felt heavy, my head was throbbing and I felt like I was breathing acid.

I didn't have time to react as one of the roof beams cracked, having been partly dissolved by the fire, and fell down on the left side of my body.

The pain was immeasurable. Indescribable. The flames licking the beam hungrily attacked my clothes, ruthlessly ignored the pain from my broken arm underneath and the third degree burns that were already forming where the flames was melting my skin.

" _Mom!_ " I cried out, my heart beating in panic as adrenaline and pain mixed and shot up every nerve ending of my body.

I fell to my side and screamed (but there was no more sound from my smoke-damaged throat) as I tried to extinguish the flames devouring the clothes on the left side of my body with only the palm of my right hand.

I'm gonna die here. I'm gonna die.

Something decided to show me mercy at that moment; instead of being consciously burnt alive, the smoke pushed me into oblivion.

The smell of my own burning flesh was the last thing I remembered.

* * *

A terrible hoarse scream, from the deepest pits of agony, pulled me out of my state of unconsciousness.

It hurt.

It hurt. It hurt.

"Jesus. Liz."

My skin was burning. _I_ was burning.

The scream surrounded me again and if my skin had been capable it would've formed goosebumps. But my skin was red and blistered; stripped of its normal functions.

I had yet to open my eyes. I didn't want to face the scream. My energy was focused on cramping every cell in my body in desperate attempt to fight the pain.

I couldn't breathe. My lungs hurt, the pain pressed down on my ability to ventilate.

"What were you doing in there?"

I vaguely registered the nausea in that voice beneath the all-consuming fear.

I tried to tighten my fists, my nails scraped against concrete, some breaking in the process.

Concrete.

I felt the wind blow against my face - my burning face - and heard cars in the background.

Outside. I was outside.

I forced my eyes opened and found Max Evans staring down at me. I hitched on my breath at the sight of his burnt face. He was burnt. Was he the one screaming? What had happened to him?

"Liz," he whispered and I felt the saltiness of my own tears sting my cheeks.

I saw him lift his hands to touch my face, but he stopped just an inch from touching me.

"How could you be so stupid?" he asked, anger in those dark eyes of his. But the fear was still there. Fear about my condition?

What condition was I in exactly? How badly was I hurt?

I was sure every single one of my nerves must've been severed to cause so much throbbing, burning and slicing pain throughout my whole body.

"Mom," I croaked, looking at him desperately.

He looked ready to throw up as he looked at me quietly. "You need to focus on you now."

"No," I replied stubbornly and tried to will my body to move. "Mom…needs…my-"

The pain hit me full force and I screamed, my whole body spasming against the pain, as tears paved their way down my cheeks.

His hands gripped my wrists, causing a transitory sharp pain as pressure was applied to my scorched skin, but the pain quickly ebbed, the renewed scream dying on my lips.

"Stay still," he ordered.

"Find my mom," I sobbed, my throat aching from every syllable.

"First you," he answered and I wanted to push him away. Wanted to yell at him for not saving my mom. For wasting his time on me. I was dead anyway. I didn't want to continue living with the pain, with the damages that had probably been done to my body.

But I had no strength to push him away.

"I hate you," I whispered, my voice breaking.

He looked at me evenly and said softly, "You can hate me all you want. I'm not letting you die."

But you're letting my mom die.

I didn't have a chance to say it though before he continued, "You need to look at me. Straight into my eyes. Don't blink."

My burning lungs were chronically depriving me of oxygen and my thoughts were made increasingly confused and blurry. But I found no trouble obeying him. I was afraid that my body and mind would sink into nothingness if I let go of his eyes.

"Lizzie?"

It was the first time he had called me by my nickname. It made me feel safe. That simple nickname made me put my life in his hands. Quite literally.

"Okay," I breathed, highly aware of the comfortable pressure of his palms against my wrists. It was the only part of my body that wasn't hurting.

"Okay," he agreed and I felt the tremble from his hands against my wrists as he inhaled deeply.

I thought Max Evans always looked at me intently. But, oh, how wrong I'd been. Apparently, there were several degrees to his ability to pour his emotions out of his eyes and into mine. The way he was looking into my eyes was beyond cheesy, beyond romantic, beyond soul-mate stuff. His look was almost primal, burrowing into my very soul and I could feel him falling into me. Blending us together.

My breath hitched.

His hands jumped against my wrists.

I was one hundred percent aware of him leaning over me, of his hands leaving my wrists and brushing up my burnt arms, but I failed to react. His touch against my markedly over-sensitized skin didn't even hurt. There was another heat spreading in the wake of his hands, a comfortable and soothing heat.

That's when the images started.

" _That's her, isn't it?" an 8-year-old Michael asked behind my shoulder._

 _"Yes," I replied, following the brown-haired girl with my eyes. She was so pretty._

 _"She doesn't look that special," Michael said casually._

 _"Dad says she is," I replied, watching the girl play with a blonde girl on the swings._

 _"Just because her mom-"_

 _"I think she is," I interrupted, feeling drawn to the dark-haired beauty. "She's special."_

 _Michael snorted behind me and I felt heat creep up my neck as he started singing, "Liz and Max, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G."_

I gasped, inhaled sharply, my back arching, before another memory that wasn't mine assaulted me.

" _What are you doing?" Liz sobbed, tears glistening in her large brown eyes, as her bottom lip trembled._

 _I swallowed and felt myself shake with nausea and guilt. What_ were _we doing?_

 _"Dad…" I pleaded._

 _"Quiet," my father ordered harshly, putting one collection tube of blood on the table, before retrieving another one off the bed._

 _"I want mom," Liz whispered and I took a step towards her fearful figure and dropped to my knees next to her._

 _Carefully I reached for her hand. She flinched at my intention, but let me take it._

 _"It's gonna be okay," I assured her, my 9-year-old self falling into her frightened eyes._

 _She chewed on her bottom lip, large tears falling down her cheeks, dripping onto the sheet tucked around her body._

 _We were in her bedroom, in the middle of the night, intruding._

 _"Son," my dad said. "You can do this one."_

 _I felt myself go cold. No. I didn't. I didn't want to be part of this._

 _My dad sighed impatiently at my hesitancy and, with a glance at my hand grasping Liz's, ground out in irritation, "You want to help her, right?"_

 _I nodded slowly, her large eyes burning into the side of my neck._

 _"Then heal her."_

 _I looked at where the thick needle had punctured Liz's skin. Liz's thin light skin was already turning yellow with the first signs of a large bruise around the puncture hole._

 _It was my 'job' to erase the puncture hole and the imminent bruising._

 _I swallowed nervously and leaned across Liz, placing my palm into the inside of her elbow._

Max's face swam in front of me. I could see the strain on his face, the sweat droplets tracing the burns on his own face. I could feel the trembles in his hands as he moved them across my body, touching me like no one had ever touched me.

I inhaled sharply, my lungs feeling better, as my vision disappeared and I was propelled into another memory.

" _No…"_

 _I looked at the flames licking the outside of the windows and the smoke engulfing the building. And with a sinking heart I saw Liz climb the ladder to her balcony and disappear into her room._

 _My heart stopped and ice-cold fear spread through my body. My fists tightened against the sides of my body, but I didn't waste a second on making a decision. Never thought about the risks._

 _If Liz was going in there, so was I._

He gasped and practically slumped on top of me. I inhaled a deep, painless breath, and tried to collect my feelings and thoughts.

What the hell had just happened?

"Max?" I asked, the heaviness of his body on top of mine worrying me.

He groaned and lifted slightly off me.

"You're okay," he stated in a strained whisper.

There was something wrong about his face, about the listlessness of his eyes, about the massive trembles rushing through his body.

I swallowed, "Max?"

He blinked slowly and managed to pull himself up into a seated position.

"You're okay now," he repeated with a relieved breath.

I followed his movement, sitting up next to him, and grabbed his hand. "Max, what did you do? What the hell did you do?"

Maybe it was not the right time to interrogate him, but I would bet my hat that Max Evans had just healed me. Brought me back from life-threatening injuries. And I was pretty certain that I had just been able to see into Max's mind.

Which was insane.

Max looked ready to faint. He tried to pull his hand away, but it shook so badly from exertion that he failed in that regard. I felt my inquisitive nature being muted and my concern for him exponentially increasing.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, wanting to touch his face, run my fingers across his body to look for more injuries. But the burn wounds on his face stopped me. My touch would only hurt him.

He took a shuddering breath, his upper body swaying, "You can't tell anyone."

Tell them what? I didn't even understand what had just happened.

"You don't look so good," I said worriedly.

"Call my dad," Max said faintly, before his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he collapsed against me.


	13. THIRTEEN

**THIRTEEN**

 _Call my dad._

I shivered. The prospect of speaking to Mr. Evans - especially to inform him that his unconscious son was draped across my lap - was pushing my anxiety to a whole new level.

But it didn't take me long to realize that my concern for whatever had happened to Max greatly overshadowed my fears of speaking to his father.

"Max?" I whispered, trying to jostle him back to awareness.

Please, wake up. Please, wake up.

But Max's body remained heavy, like dead weight, his arms draped around my hips and his head in my lap. A fierce protectiveness rushed through me. I had never seen Max so vulnerable, so helpless.

His breathing wasn't right. It was short and interrupted; irregular. He looked pale underneath the bright pink skin burns and he was trembling.

Phone.

I needed to get to his phone. Biting my bottom lip insecurely, I reached across Max's back and padded his back pockets, trying not to dwell on the fact that I was practically groping him.

Left. It was in his left pocket. I pushed my hand into his pocket, ignoring the flush in my cheeks, the acceleration of my heart beat, and fished out his cell phone.

Leaning back, I was relieved to see that his phone was not protected by a password and I quickly rushed through his contacts, trying my best not to pry at the odd combination of names that flickered past, until I found 'Dad'.

I pressed 'dial' and waited for him to pick up.

"Where are you?"

No hello. Just rough coldness.

"Mr. Evans? This is Liz Parker."

Silence. And then, "Ms. Parker." His voice had turned polite, warm almost. "What are you doing with my son's phone?"

"He needs your help," I replied and looked down at the head of dark hair on my lap. My free hand unconsciously threaded through the thickness of his hair. "He's unconscious. He got badly burnt in a fire."

I was just about to tell him where to find us when the call was disconnected.

"Mr. Evans?" I frowned, removing the phone from my ear to look at the screen and verify that Max's father had actually hung up on me.

I considered re-dialing, but I had a feeling that the call hadn't accidentally been disconnected.

I shiver raced through me as I raised my eyes towards the burning remnants of my house and I recalled the vision (or whatever) that had been in my head when Max had done…whatever he had done. Of Max walking up to the house and seeing me run into it.

Why would Max be wandering around the outsides of my house this early on a Sunday morning?

Coincidence? I think not.

And I had a feeling that Max's father didn't need an address to where Max could get burn injuries, because Mr. Evans already knew the only place in Roswell where there was a fire raging.

My whole body froze as a scary paranoid thought hit me. Had _they_ caused the fire?

Far-off sirens, coming closer, interrupted my dark line of thinking and my attention was back to my house - or what was left of it. Max had dragged me pretty far away from it. The fire truck was the size of a pony from this distance.

The arrival of the fire truck also shifted my attention. I had been temporarily distracted by pain and whatever Max had done, but my focus was now fully back on track.

Mom.

Dad.

Where were they?

But I was stuck. With Max's body overlapping mine, I couldn't go search for my parents. I could only hope that my dad had been successful where I wasn't. In saving mom.

"Max," I said softly, pleadingly. I felt lost, afraid, broken and drained. At the moment, he was my only confidant. An unconscious confidant.

I pushed at him when he didn't answer, trying to rearrange him so that he was in a more comfortable position. Instead, his body rolled off mine and fell to the hard unyielding ground.

"Shit," I mumbled and kneeled next to him, brushing his fringe to the side.

Even with horrible burns, he was beautiful. I leaned in, watching the unsteady breaths jerk his body, and a tear from my eye rolled off my cheek and landed on his lips.

"What were you doing here?" I whispered brokenly. I desperately didn't want my suspicions to be correct. Because that would mean that Max Evans, who had just miraculously saved my life - twice - was somehow responsible for hurting my family. Responsible for hurting my mom.

He didn't answer. Of course.

In the silence that followed - broken only by the shouts from the firemen as they hauled out large hoses form their trucks - I heard the distinctive sound of rubber screeching against concrete.

I looked up just in time to see a black SUV stop with a screech barely ten feet away from us. Three adults jumped out; Mr. Evans and (I frowned) Mr. Guerin? I didn't recognize the third man.

Mr. Evans stalked up to me and I instinctively shied away, unconsciously shielding Max's inert body with mine.

"Ms. Parker," Mr. Evans said calmly, his face blank as he looked between me and his son. "We meet again."

"He asked me to call you," I replied, my body tightening as if it was preparing for combat. I suddenly felt like preventing the men from taking Max. The same conflicted feeling I'd experienced when I had dropped Max off at his father's after he had been abused.

"Are you okay, Ms. Parker?" Mr. Evans asked and I saw a hint of concern flash in his eyes.

That minuscule concern threw me off and I lost my answer.

"Did you get burned?" Mr. Evans continued, his eyes searching my body.

Call it instinct. Call it intuition. But I had the feeling that I shouldn't tell this man that I had been covered in lethal burns not five minutes ago.

"No," I answered and swallowed. "Only Max."

I looked down at him and added softly, "He got burnt trying to rescue me."

"I see," Mr. Evans said, his tone clipped. I looked back at him just in time to see him gesture something to his 'friends'.

"I'm glad that you're okay," Mr. Evans said as the two men walked up to me and gently pulled Max away from me. "We'll take care of Max now."

My mouth was dry as I watched them pull Max to his feet and position his slack body between their bodies, with his arms across their shoulders. My heart ached as I watched Max's feet drag against the ground as they semi-carried him to the backseat of the SUV.

"Thank you for calling us, Ms. Parker," Mr. Evans said with a polite nod of his head, turned on his heel and disappeared into the car.

Men in black, I thought. They came, swooped in, and disappeared. Leaving barely a trace.

I pushed my feet under me and got up on wobbly legs. Next I commenced a desperate gait of hopping, stumbling and running. My body was not fully cooperating.

"Lizzie!"

Hope and warmth filled my chest at the sound of that voice saying my name. A smile spread across my lips and tears threatened to fall yet again, as I spun towards the voice and saw my dad sitting in the back of the ambulance, a yellow blanket across his shoulders.

I ran.

And fell into his arms. His embrace was tight. Alive. He kissed my head, my forehead and cradled my face between his blackened hands as he looked at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

I nodded and sniffled. "Are _you_ okay?"

He nodded. "I tried to go in there," he looked embarrassed for a second, "but there was just too much smoke. It was too hot."

I realized that he couldn't know. I probably looked healthy - unharmed - so there was no reason for him to suspect that I had been inside the house.

"Where did you go? I was so worried. I was certain that you had gone in."

I shook my head and attempted a wobbly reassuring smile. "I walked around the house, to see if mom was anywhere close by."

I dropped my head, quiet tears running down my cheeks. "I couldn't find her."

He put his arms around my shoulders then and pulled me in for another hug. "She's dead, baby." The words were whispered into my hair, but it was like he was slicing my skin with sharp knives. "They found her body."

"No," I whimpered, my legs folding underneath me.

His arms held me up as he stroked my hair. His own tears were wetting the top of my head as he broke down. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry."

"No," I sobbed again. There was nothing else to say. Nothing else to do.

My mom was dead.

* * *

"Can I get you anything?" Maria asked, her eyes glistening with unshed tears in the dimness of her room.

She had brought out the spare mattress, but had refused to let me sleep on it. _She_ would take the mattress. _I_ was to take the bed.

I shook my head mutely, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

My eyes were sore and dry from the crying. I felt empty; all cried out. There was a big hollow pounding emptiness in the center of my chest, which intermittently sent out spikes of pain into my body. They were worse than the pain from the skin burns. Much worse.

Speaking of…

Making sure that Maria had her back turned, I pushed the duvet slightly to the side and pulled my top up, revealing an area of red aching burning skin just beneath my ribs on my left side. Max had forgotten one spot. Or his energy had run out before he'd had the chance to heal it.

Whatever the reason, I was glad that he had missed it. The pain from that small area of 2x2 inches was the only thing that kept me real, that reminded me that this whole thing was real. Not just a horrible nightmare.

My mom was dead.

Max Evans had been watching me since he was little.

Max Evans had been involved in taking my blood when I was younger.

Max Evans had just healed me.

My dad and I were homeless and out of employment.

My mom was dead.

I wanted to die too.

Heavy agony and anguish pushed on my chest and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, tightening my whole body to prevent the screams from escaping.

I was special. Just like my mom. That's what a young Michael had told a young Max.

Was that why she had died? Because she was special?

Was I next?


	14. FOURTEEN

**FOURTEEN**

" _You look beautiful, sweetie."_

 _My heart skipped a joyous beat and I quickly turned towards her voice._

 _She looked like a princess. With her beautiful auburn hair, her green eyes and her beautiful smile, she was the best thing I'd ever seen._

 _"Mom!" I cried and ran towards her, flinging myself into her arms._

 _She laughed, confused, into my hair as she hugged me back while I tried to squeeze her so tightly that she would not be able to leave._

 _"Lizzie… You're kinda cutting off my air supply here."_

 _"Sorry," I sobbed and pulled back. My grip on her body loosened but I wouldn't let her go. I looked into her warm eyes, remembering every detail of her face. "You're here."_

 _"Of course I am," mom answered incredulously. "Where else would I be?"_

 _I shook my head, and stumbled on a sob, "Nowhere." I swallowed my tears. "Nowhere but here."_

 _She cocked her head to the side and looked at me questioningly, but after a second of contemplation she apparently let it go and announced, "Dinner's ready, honey."_

 _"Okay," I whispered, barely letting myself blink. What if she disappeared when I blinked?_

 _"Your daddy's barbecuing," mom answered and her left cheek started to drop._

 _Wait._

 _Fear gripped me as adrenaline exploded into my blood. My hold on her arms tightened again. "Mom?"_

 _"You like barbecue, right?" mom asked as her face continued to melt in front of me._

 _"No," I croaked and shook her hard. Once. Twice. "Mom!"_

 _She frowned, her eyes turning red. "What's wrong?"_

 _The corneas of her eyes heated and cracked. Like windows. And I screamed._

"Nooooooooo!"

"Shhh, it's okay. It's okay."

I pushed the hands away, my frantic eyes searching the darkness for my mom. For the fire. To escape. To get away from the horror that was my living nightmare.

The hands grabbed at me again, trying to catch my hands. "Liz. Liz. Liz."

"Noo," I keened. "Nooo."

"You're safe," my best friend softly whispered and the tightness of my fear slowly transformed into numb sorrow.

I slumped in her comforting arms, letting her rock me gently while whispering nonsensical syllables of consolation into the black night surrounding us.

Mom was dead. Mom had died. Mom was dead.

I tightly squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the hot tears from running. My eyes were sore and painful from all the salty tears, my body bone-tired from devastating emotions and sleepless nights.

I just wanted it all to end. I wanted the pain to go away.

I wanted my mom to come back.

* * *

Maria's gaze was heavy. I'm sure she didn't mean for it to be, but her sympathy was almost too much for me to bear.

"Cereal?" she asked, holding up a box of cornflakes. "I always find that easy to eat when I have close to no appetite. It's so light, you know."

I tiredly traced the end of the table with my finger, watching it pick up a fine layer of dust. The DeLucas weren't the cleanest of people.

"Or maybe you're in the mood for some toast?" Maria continued, an air of forced cheerfulness applied on top of the concern and compassion. "I could even make you French toast. Maybe you need sugar."

Amy DeLuca, Maria's mom, walked into the kitchen. She announced her presence by saying, "Morning, girls," which meant that I didn't have to lift my heavy head to acknowledge her existence.

Maria's mom had never allowed me refer to her by her last name. During Maria's and my entire friendship, she had always been Amy. To her classmates and the people who had known Amy growing up she was best known as 'Wacky Amy'. Wacky Amy was a free-spirit; someone that went against the regular current of opinions and social norms. I had always admired her for that.

Amy squeezed my shoulders from behind, and pressed a kiss to my temple before walking straight to the coffee machine.

That was one of Amy's best qualities. She didn't fuss. She didn't linger.

Maria was the complete opposite. Maria needed validation. She needed to be seen. Being invisible made her uncomfortable and awkward.

Normally, I would acknowledge her monologues by supplying intermittent remarks of semi-sarcasm. The current silence I was dishing out was (unfortunately) lengthening Maria's speeches.

I hadn't eaten for two days. Apparently, this was making Maria uncomfortable. Each day came with even more food suggestions.

"Maybe you're in the mood for something really nutritious?" Maria continued. "Porridge?"

"Maria, honey," Amy interjected while pouring herself her first cup of coffee for the day. A requirement for her to be able to get through the morning. "Liz will eat when she's hungry. You can't force these things."

"But-" Maria objected, but must've been silently silenced by her mother, because the conversation was dropped.

Maria focused on preparing breakfast for herself while I continued to collect dust on my finger along and under the counter. The monotonous and repetitive movement was soothing. Almost therapeutic. It was also threatening to make me fall asleep. I had been unnaturally fatigued since my mother died. Completely drained of energy. My nightmare-induced insomnia wasn't helping matters further.

My tired eyes dropped as the sizzling sound of the frying pan methodically lulled me to sleep. But before my eyes closed completely, I noticed a redness break out across my palm.

Instantly 100% awake, I became aware of the heat that was creeping into my hand and I reflectively snapped my hand back. The sensation was unmistakable. Like I had just placed my hand on a hot stove.

I felt Maria's eyes on me. "You okay?"

"I…" I murmured, the burning sensation in my hand intensifying.

I jumped off the stool where I was seated and quickly headed for the bathroom, leaving two very confused women in the kitchen. I pulled the door closed behind me and locked it. Quickly turning the tap on and adjusting it to the coldest setting, I swiftly plunged my burning hand into the water stream.

The relief came almost immediately and with the momentary absence of pain, my mind could focus on analyzing what was happening.

How could I be burning without having burnt myself?

Except…

I _had been_ burnt. Three days ago. I had most likely been burnt over most of my body. Hand included.

Letting my hand remain in the stream of cooling water, I pulled my shirt up with my free hand to reveal the unhealed area on my stomach.

I gasped. It was worse.

Instead of healing it had gotten worse. I might be hallucinating, but I was pretty sure there were blisters forming in the damaged area.

Ever since I was burnt, the area had been throbbing and burning, but I had managed to push it to the back of my mind, my brain occupied with grieving my mom. How had I managed to avoid feeling that it had gotten worse?

There was a knock at the door.

"Liz? Are you okay?"

I let my shirt drop to cover my stomach and kept my burning hand in the cold tap water while leaning over to the toilet to collect a large wad of toilet paper.

"I'll be right out," I yelled over the rushing sound of the faucet.

"Okay," came the insecure voice and I was pretty certain that Maria would be waiting outside the door for me.

I put the big wad of soft toilet paper into the cold water - partially wetting it - before turning off the tap and wrapping the cool wet paper around my hand. Maybe that would keep the burning sensation off until Maria left for school. Maybe then I could just take a long cold bath.

I pulled the door open and watched Maria's eyes immediately travel to my bundled up hand.

Her eyes widened. "What happened?"

"I cut myself," I answered vaguely.

She frowned. "Cut yourself?"

I knew that she was trying to figure out where I could have cut myself, so I hurried to say, "There was this sharp edge to the counter. I was stupidly dragging my finger there." I mustered up a sheepish smile and added, "It's not bad, but it's bleeding a lot."

Maria looked uncertain. "Maybe we should let mom take a look."

I shook my head, "No, no," trying to convey calmness, "I'll be fine." I could already feel the throbbing dimly returning to my hand, the hand heating up the coolness of the damp toilet paper. "But maybe I could bum some painkillers off you…?"

"Yeah, yeah," Maria said quickly, eager to be able to do something. "I'll get some."

"Thanks," I mumbled while I felt the same burning sensation that was in my hand also creep up the back of my neck.

What the hell was happening to me?

* * *

I braced myself against the plastered white wall and took a deep breath. But even when I closed my eyes tightly shut, my surroundings kept on spinning. I was acutely aware of the burning pain over my back and up my neck, of the pounding in my left arm and the small blisters that had been on my face when I had woken up this morning.

I had snuck out of the house before Maria or Amy had woken. I didn't want them to see me like this. Didn't want them to ask any questions that I couldn't answer.

Which is how I found myself standing outside of the Evans' residence at seven in the morning.

It took a monumental effort to raise my arm and press the door bell. I had the small energy to pray that it wouldn't be Mr. Evans answering the door.

The door flung open and I was struck by how much like himself he looked. As though he had never been burnt at all.

His eyes widened in horrified worry as he saw me. "Liz?"

I struggled to put a light smile on my lips. "I think you did something wrong when you fixed me."


	15. FIFTEEN

**FIFTEEN**

His mouth fell open as he took in my condition, and he breathed a "Fuck" before grabbing my arm and pulling me inside.

I stumbled, my legs not operating the way they used to.

"Let's go to my room," Max said hurriedly, dragging me along.

At first I had thought that it was the grief that was draining me. I've heard of people sleeping ridiculous amounts of hours in the midst of depression and sorrow. I'd also heard of losing your appetite and your ability to function.

But when the wounds from the fire started to reappear across my body, I suspected something different was going on.

"Liz?" he asked softly as I stumbled again.

He was looking at me intensely and I tried to meet his gaze through the black spots dancing before my eyes.

"I'm fine," I answered, the lie so transparent that I could as well be wearing a large neon sign with the words 'I'm actually broken' above my head.

His hand tightened around my upper arm and he searched my face. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah," I answered, trying to brush his worry away. Of course I could walk. I'd made it this far, hadn't I?

I had, in fact, managed to drive the car to his house.

He didn't need to know that I had reversed into a bin and brushed along a hedge on the way, while bordering on a blackout.

He considered my sparsely worded answer for about four seconds, before tugging sharply on my elbow, making my body collide with his.

As my legs folded underneath me in response to the abrupt movement, his arms folded around my waist and my legs turned, if possible, even less functional as they buckled as his hard body aligned with my weakened one. He pressed me up against his chest, so close that I could feel his heartbeat against my breast.

It was beating hard. Fast.

I inhaled a shaky breath as he said quietly, "Come here."

I looked up into those amber eyes of his and had time to contemplate his two-worded command for one second before he bent and moved his left arm into the hooks of my knees. Before I really knew how it had happened, Max Evans was carrying me.

Let's linger on that for a moment, shall we?

Max Evans, playboy extraordinaire and mystification personified, was carrying me.

I was too weak to react properly. My body wanted to feel elation at the feeling of him so close to me, at the sensation of my body being pressed into his, while my brain wanted to distance itself from his proximity and outright shiver at the situation.

To best describe it; I was confused. Due to my deteriorating condition since the fire, coupled with trying to get over my mother's death, I didn't have the energy to mull too much over whether Max was one of the good guys. I hadn't been able to muster up the strength to decide if I should run and hide from him, call in the law enforcement, or trust him.

Obviously, on some level I _did_ trust him. I wouldn't be at his house right now, in my heightened state of vulnerability, if I didn't.

Max brought me up the stairs to the second floor and my lips accidentally brushed against his throat.

He pushed one of the doors at the beginning of the landing open with his foot and I closed my eyes as his scent enveloped me.

I had almost slipped away into the beckoning darkness of unconsciousness as he gently placed me on his large and unmade bed. Apparently my unscheduled visit was so early in the morning that the cleaning staff hadn't made his bed yet.

Naturally, I assumed that Max Evans had people making his bed for him.

The intimacy of the wrinkled bed sheets surrounding me and the smell of him from the pillow pressed against the back of my head coupled with the morning attire of sweatpants and a white T-shirt he was wearing, tempted me to sleep. To drift away.

"Stay with me," he mumbled and my eyes snapped open.

He was seated next to me, his right hip against my left, looking at me as if I was about to vanish into thin air any second.

I felt myself falling into those eyes of sadness and forced myself to break away from his hold, letting my curiosity master the fatigue as I glanced around the room. A strong sense of déjà vu hit me with full blast as I took in his room.

Had I been here before?

No. I frowned. No, the Halloween party was the first time I was at Max's house and I was only downstairs for that one.

"Is this your room?" I asked, mostly in an attempt to smother the loaded silence (and to help me stay conscious). Of course it was his room.

"Tell me what happened," Max interrupted, an impatient sharpness to his voice. "Start from the beginning."

I blinked. "Well… You did something to me, but you are probably more equipped at accounting for whatever hell that was than me." My words were slurred. So tired. I was so tired.

He frowned, but apparently let it slide. "After. When you got to Maria's."

"My mom's dead," I stated, with more grief than I had intended. I really didn't have the energy to answer any of his questions.

His eyes softened and he silently brought his hand up to the side of my face, gently touching a strand of my hair between his fingers before cradling my cheek against his palm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and he looked so sad that I had to look away, the barely suppressed grief over my mother's absence suffocating me. I tried to inhale, but my lungs felt like they would explode. My body wanted to sob and cry hysterically.

His thumb pressed into the softness of my cheek and he gently commanded me, "Breathe."

"I can't," I pressed out, controlling my emotions by squeezing my fists tightly.

His hand moved from my cheek to the top of my chest, his fingertips touching my exposed collarbone above the hem of my shirt and his palm came to rest on the upper part of my breast. The touch wasn't really making it easier for me to breathe. As he leaned in, his lips two inches from mine, I thought my chest was going to explode for real.

Closer now, he repeated, "Breathe."

And the pressure was instantly released from my chest, my grief downgraded from frantic to semi-manageable.

I looked up at the golden flecks in his brown eyes and asked, fearfully, "What did you do?"

He took a deep breath and leaned back, removing his scorching touch from my chest. Giving me space. The air in the room felt ice-cold in the absence of his touch.

"Your mom couldn't be saved," he said slowly, avoiding my eyes.

I managed to raise up on my elbows, trying to get closer to him. I couldn't hide the anger and hurt in my voice as I asked, "What do you mean?"

"When I got to you…" he swallowed and I could see his Adam's apple bop. "She was already dead."

"You saw her?" I asked, my voice breaking with restrained tears.

He nodded, but didn't offer any more explanation than that.

"Did you try?" I started sobbing. "Did you try and save her?"

We both knew what I meant. Had Max even attempted to save my mom the way he had saved me, when he erased my injuries?

"Liz," he whispered regretfully.

I didn't need him to tell me. The answer was clearly written across his face. But he told me anyway, "She was already dead."

"Are you sure? What if it wasn't too late?" my voice wrenched out of my chest as the grief and the need to blame someone for what had happened escalated. "What if she was still alive and you," I reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, balling it up in my hands in frustrated despair, "you just left her there to die."

He looked like I had hit him. He appeared deeply hurt by my poorly veiled accusation.

"I wouldn't do that," he said between tight lips. "I would never do that."

"She could have been alive," I whispered as the truth hit me. Max's ability (whatever hell it was) would have been magical if he had just saved my mom.

My head was swimming, unconsciousness knocking at the entrance to my mind, demanding entry. The crying was quickly draining me, laboring my breathing, making my heartbeat fainter.

He looked at me with trepidation and grabbed my upper arms just as my eyes closed.

"Calm down, Liz," he said, almost sternly.

"You should have just let me die," I mumbled, the words trembling.

"No," he said and there was a finality to his objection that took the edge off the anticipated panic attack.

My body was intently wound up while simultaneously fading in fatigue. I didn't know if I should cry or throw up. My heart felt like it was breaking into millions of pieces. My skin was heating up; I imagined my skin cracking from the heat.

I slowly licked my parched lips; that simple act hurt.

"Where does it hurt?" his voice asked.

My eyelids were too heavy; impossible to lift.

"Everywhere," I mumbled.

"Does 'everywhere' mean the places you were burnt?" he continued.

I managed an unimpressive nod. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was as dry as the desert. "My back. My arm. My face. My leg."

The heat intensified with my emotions and a scream was building inside of me. There was just so much pain one could stand, as my physical pain was now coupled with the emotional. I let go of Max's shirt, which apparently I was still holding onto, and took a hold of the bottom hem of my own shirt, pulling it upwards with a sharp tug.

"Too warm," I gasped. "I'm too warm."

His hands were cool on mine as he tried to stop my movements. The air hit my skin and I felt a momentary relief before the pain intensified on the left side of my body.

"Jesus," Max mumbled and I was afraid to open my eyes to see what had put that terror in his voice. What was he seeing?

His hands left the back of mine and moved to splay out over my exposed stomach. My whole body sighed in relief. There was something about his touch…

"Open your eyes," he requested quietly, his voice sounding distant, as if his attention was divided. "I need you to open your eyes. Just like before."

So I did. With the last ounce of energy in my body, I pried them open, wondering how long I would be able to keep them open.

I wished that I hadn't. His eyes were flicking to my stomach and, against my better judgment, I followed his gaze to my exposed abdomen and saw my skin grow blisters at a frightening speed, fluid stretch the interior of the lesions, before the pressure got too high and the blisters basically ruptured.

My skin was exploding.

Max looked away from my tarnished stomach and forced my eyes to connect with his. Even though my skin was rupturing, he didn't remove his hands, instead fluttering them across the uneven skin, chilling my skin in their trail.

In the midst of everything falling apart, I was, on a purely vulnerable and adolescent level, relieved that he hadn't left me. That he hadn't given up on me just because I was probably the grossest thing he'd ever seen.

"Don't blink," he commanded and our gazes interlocked.

I couldn't blink. Couldn't look away.

" _Max."_

 _"Sgt. Carter," I acknowledged and nodded my head respectfully. I avoided to meet his eyes. He didn't approve of that._

 _"Sit down, son," Sean Carter's father said and pointed to one of the antique massive oak chairs surrounding the large solid oak table._

 _"Thank you, sir." I tried to hide my nervousness as I pulled out the chair and sank down. Being summoned for a meeting with the sergeant was rarely a good thing._

 _Sgt. Carter didn't sit down, looming over me with his presence. He sucked all the air out of a room. Not many things scared me, but Sean's father operated on an extreme level of intimidation._

 _"My son had some interesting information about a party. A party at your house this weekend."_

 _I tried to not display any feelings on my face, but couldn't stop my jaw from clenching._

 _"Yes, sir. It was a Halloween party. We have it every year."_

 _"Hmm," Sgt. Carter said in fake contemplation, rubbing his chin as he walked up to the window and gazed out. With his back to me, he asked, "Anything you want to tell me about the party? Anything out of the ordinary?"_

 _"No, sir," I denied and focused on calming my breath. He could smell fear._

 _There was a pause. The large clock on the wall ticked. And tocked._

 _"Don't lie to me, son."_

 _His voice was low and menacing, causing the hairs on my arms to stand up._

 _I swallowed. Sweat was breaking out on my forehead. Agitation was dampening my palms. I rubbed them discreetly against my jeans. "Well. Come to think of it. Isabel hurt herself."_

 _He still had his back to me. "Badly?"_

 _"She was bleeding quite profusely, sir."_

 _"And did you do something about it?"_

 _"I healed her, sir."_

 _"Did anyone see you?"_

 _A chill raced through me and caught my heart in a vice-like grip. He knew._

 _"I took care of it," I said quietly, keeping the tempting trembles out of my voice._

 _The second the last syllable left my lips, I was propelled out of the chair (it clattered to the floor behind me with a loud thud) and my back violently struck the wall. I heard something crack, pain vibrating from my ribcage, and gravity brutally ripped me to the floor._

 _"You have to be more careful, son," Sgt. Carter said darkly, his voice getting closer as I laid on the floor in pain, trying to pull myself and my dignity upwards._

 _His hand whipped across my face and pain exploded through my nose and across my cheek. I tasted blood in my mouth before another hit was aimed at my abdomen._

I gasped, "No…"

"Shh," he hushed, holding onto my gaze.

I wondered if he could see what I saw when his memories flashed through my mind. If he revisited the traumatizing feelings he had experienced when being physically abused by Sean Carter's dad.

At the same time as I could feel a whisper of what Max had gone through while being beat up, I could feel energy return to my body. And I was pretty sure Max was the battery that was feeding me that power.

My hand instinctually and tightly wrapped around his wrist and my voice was dry as I cracked a whisper of, "Stop."

If he was the battery that was charging me, he would be drained.

Instead of him pulling back at my quiet plea, my mind was assaulted by another vision.

 _"So. Are you gonna ask Liz Parker to the party?"_

 _I pulled the sweater over my head, which messed up my hair. "Maybe."_

 _"She won't say 'yes', you know."_

 _I raised a disinterested eyebrow, "And how do you know?"_

 _My sister leaned against the doorway to my room, plucking with the silver necklace around her neck, before answering casually, "Because she's afraid of you, of course."_

 _A grin spread across my lips and I shook my head as I moved to find my cell phone. "I know."_

 _It was not like I enjoyed that Liz Parker was afraid of me. I just found it ironic that the only girl I've ever been interested in, avoided me at all costs._

My eyes widened as Max's honest thoughts echoed through my head.

 _The only girl I've ever been interested in…_

I could almost feel life being breathed into my pale cheeks, energy brightening my eyes, vitality strengthening my body and my very essence awakening my muddled brain.

My breath hitched as the heightened awareness that came with renewed health registered the movements of his hands over my body. The pads of his fingers brushed along the bottom of my ribcage, over my ribs, grazing the base of my bra and pushed between my back and the mattress.

He was tracing my injuries like a painter would make pastels flow across the canvas.

I was heating up again, but for a completely different reason.

No boy had ever touched me like this.

The feeling was acutely intimate and personal. Max's eyes looking into mine the whole time made the experience even more intense.

He was leaning over me, his waist brushing against my pelvis, and I could feel the shudder that rocked his body vibrate from his bones to mine. Out of my peripheral vision I could dimly trace the sweat droplets along his hairline, the wrinkle of strain marking his forehead and the increasing exertion in his eyes.

I felt another vision (or whatever I should call it) come on as he removed his hands from my back and traced them up my arms, mending the fracture that was starting to reappear, breaking the bones in my left arm. The previous fracture from the burning roof beam that had fallen on me.

But instead of letting his memories flow into my mind in another walk down Max's Memory Lane, I used my healed arms to push at him and forced my eyes to blink and release myself from his grip.

He inhaled sharply, as if released from a spell, and leaned on me, breathing heavily.

I was at a loss at what to do. Was he about to pass out again? Should I help him move?

Should I just stay there and revel in the feel of his weight on top of me?

"Why did you do that?" he whispered, his voice listless as his strained breaths caressed my exposed shoulder, where my shirt had fallen down.

I forcefully pushed the sensation out of my mind.

Instead I said, "You were doing too much," my voice stronger than his now. "You passed out last time, you know."

"I know," he mumbled and raised his head to look at me. "I'm not done."

"I don't care," I answered, goosebumps forming as I flicked my eyes to his lips. So close to mine. "You need a break."

"Liz…" he said disapprovingly, weakened.

"Max," I countered.

He clenched his jaw and pulled himself off me. A trembling breath left me along with the sudden loss of his weight.

Sitting up next to me, back into his 'starting position', he reluctantly agreed, "Fine."


	16. SIXTEEN

**SIXTEEN**

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up in a fascinating way. I stared, bewitched, as I slowly move into a seated position.

"How long has it been like this?" he asked breathlessly, rubbing his hands over his face, and my captivation with the beauty of Max Evans was (temporarily) broken.

"Since the fire," I mumbled.

His head snapped to mine and there were strong disbelief and incomprehension marking his features. "But I healed you."

I worried my bottom lip. "So… you really can, can you? You can heal?"

He looked away and ground out, "Yeah, I'm like the fucking Christmas miracle."

I briefly pondered the bitterness to his voice (I would've been ecstatic if I could heal, but evidently Max wasn't), before flinging a follow-up question at him, "How?"

He glanced at me and shrugged casually, before looking away and answering vaguely, "A gift from God? I don't know."

Something about his answer rubbed me the wrong way.

"So why doesn't anyone know about it? Why aren't you - or your parents - making money off this?" I've met his father; he probably wouldn't be above making money off his son. "People would pilgrimage to be healed by you. They would probably pay a lot for it too."

He rose from the chair, irritation saturating his hasty movements. I noticed how he swayed before regaining his balance; still weak from _healing_ me.

Wow. The concept was too big for me to grasp. Still, my painless body was proof enough.

"I guess I don't want to feel like a freak, okay?" He walked over to the window, his back towards me. "And my parents are not bad people. They wouldn't do that."

"Really?" I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but Max seemed to remove all of my filters.

He sighed, his shoulders straight and tense. "Which is why you can't tell anyone about this."

"Yeah, you already told me that," I said with a hint of impatience.

I let my legs cross in a more comfortable position on his bed and asked, "What about the visions?"

He sighed and turned around, looking more like the more well-known version of Max Evans than he had since I fought to remain standing outside the front door to his house. "What visions?"

"When you…" my hands flew in the air to search for the most suitable description, "… _healed_ me, I see things. Things from your perspective. I'm guessing they're your memories."

Max blanched. No, that would be an understatement. All color rapidly drained from his face, his mouth fell open and his eyes widened in horror.

"What…" a strangled whisper, "What do you mean?"

"I saw who hurt you that night. It was Sean Carter's father, wasn't it?"

I was observing his reactions; categorizing and putting them away for later. There was something more going on here. Not that I was an expert on people with the power to heal, but from all the 'Praise Jesus' and 'Hallelujahs' I've watched in response to seemingly gifted people putting their hands on damaged persons and fixing them, I've never heard anything about the cured getting private information or images from their healer.

He stared at me. His hands were shaking as they hung limply along his sides. His breathing was uneven and with his hair still standing in all directions, he looked like a madman about to explode.

The state of pending disaster lasted for about five seconds before something flowed through him, transforming him. The change perfectly described the phrase 'pull yourself together'. He straightened, lifted his chest and regained control over his face.

"Liz," he practically drawled and I was instantly put on edge, bracing myself for what he might say. "You were in a really bad condition. That obviously messed with your head. Made you… I don't know," he shrugged and almost grinned, "see things."

I could feel my whole body tightening. I was certain, from his reaction, that my sudden gift of the sight was probably news even to Max. But I was equally certain that he knew my visions were real. Not some hallucinations.

"You healed me when I was younger. You were in my bedroom with your father, taking my blood."

Max didn't move a muscle.

"What did you do with my blood, Max? Why were you doing that?"

He huffed. "Liz, listen to yourself. I was in your room? Taking your blood? Now…why would I do that?"

I looked at him straight-on, refusing to blink. "Because there's something else going on here. Maybe you needed my blood for experimentation. Maybe you drink human blood-"

He laughed at this and I felt a hurtful darkness spread in my body. I interrupted him with a bite, "This is serious!"

"Okay," Max agreed, stilling his laughter and walking closer to the bed - closer to me. "Tell me. What exactly am I?"

"I don't know!" I cried in frustration, hitting his bed spread with my fists. "If I did, I wouldn't be asking you, would I?"

His scrutinizing eyes caressed my face and he sighed, sinking down on the edge of the bed. Looking down at his hands, he offered quietly, "I can heal, Liz. That's it. Whatever you experienced while I did that, I… I can't explain. The brain does odd things to you when you're badly injured." He looked up at me, catching my doubting look. "You know, like how they say that Near Death Experiences are due to the brain shutting down. Impulses. The same with walking towards a white light."

"I've never heard of the side effect of being able to see into someone's memory," I objected.

"How do you know that you did?" he implored seriously. "The mind can conjure up the most amazing stories."

Yeah, Max Evans was the only one that could actually confirm that what I had seen had really happened. Listening to him trying to talk his way out of my experiences with rationality, I quickly realized that I couldn't count on him to corroborate the information.

As my frustration grew, I got an increasing need to forcibly pull the truth out of him. "Because there were _details_. A lot of details that just made sense once I saw them."

He looked down at his hands again. "Sean Carter's dad did not beat me."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and challenged, "Then who did?"

He took a deep breath. "I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Some guy jumped me out of the blue; I never got the chance to see his face."

"Some guy just jumped you? Unprovoked?" I asked dubiously.

He nodded and opened his mouth to respond. A knock at the door interrupted what he was about to say.

"Max?"

I chilled at the voice on the other side of the door, unconsciously pressing my fingers into the bedspread and tightening them around the material.

Max's whole body went rigid and he glanced briefly at the closed door before looking back at me and putting a finger in front of his mouth in the implied universal gesture of 'Be quiet'.

But whatever plan Max had come up with at the drop of a hat was immediately squashed as the door opened, before Max even had the chance to rise from the bed.

Mr. Evans was impressive and intimidating in stature, filling out the larger part of the doorway as the door flung open.

His eyebrows rose as he caught sight of me on his son's bed, but other than that his face was blank.

I could only assume that he hadn't expected to see me in Max's room, but there was no surprise on his face as he calmly stated, "Ms. Parker."

I felt the sudden need to explain my presence. How must this look? I was in his son's bedroom with the door closed, on his bed.

Considering the early hour of the day, Max's father could easily be tempted to jump to the conclusion that I had snuck into Max's room already during the night and spent the last couple of hours in Max's company.

I opened my mouth to explain, without having an explanation ready, "I-", but Max beat me to it.

"Liz needed my help catching up on some school work." Max didn't look at me. "She's missed a lot of stuff. Since her mother's passing…"

"Right," Mr. Evans said as Max trailed off, his eyes never for a second straying from my face. "I heard." An empathetic smile graced his lips. "My condolences, Liz."

I swallowed. There was something quite unpleasant about him using my first name. It was really disconcerting when he referred to me as 'Ms. Parker' as well, but I was very certain that I didn't want him to call me by my nickname ever again.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"She was just leaving," Max said and looked at me.

I trembled at the intensity behind the pointed look he gave me as he added, "Weren't you, Liz?"

For a second, I was unable to move. Time seemed frozen as I felt the eyes of the older and younger Evans trained on me.

"Yeah," I whispered and cleared my throat to repeat with more force, "Yeah," as I scrambled off the bed.

"I'll show you out," Mr. Evans offered.

"That's okay, Dad," Max objected, lining up next to my hesitant shape. "I'll take her."

"Shouldn't you get ready for school, son?" Mr. Evans said and gave Max - what could only be described as - a commanding look. Leaving no room for objections.

I could tell that he hesitated, unusually unsure of himself, but after merely a second of silence he looked at me and said with conflicted eyes, "Uhm… I'll talk to you later?"

He was going to leave me with his father. My heart sank to the bottom of my feet, where it proceeded to shake with cold fear.

But he wouldn't do that if he thought his dad would hurt me, would he?

Would he?

He searched my face and I was pretty sure that my fear was plainly visible in my expression.

"Come along, Ms. Parker," Mr. Evans interrupted the locking of our eyes. "Let's leave my son to make himself a bit more…presentable."

"Sure," I mumbled and walked towards the door. Max's eyes were burning into my the back of my neck.

Mr. Evans reached out and closed the door behind us, before grabbing me by the elbow.

I inhaled sharply at the intrusive contact and the tight harshness of his hold. He was pulling me along the corridor before I had a chance to get my bearings back together.

"Let go of me," I hissed under my breath, glaring up at his profile. I was, more than ever before, acutely aware of my petite height of 5'2. Mr. Evans presence was oppressive.

Instead of releasing his hold, Mr. Evans said calmly, "We both know that my son wasn't telling the truth in there."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said between clenched teeth, tugging futilely at my arm to free it.

Mr. Evans pulled me down the stairs, his pace rapid and forceful, almost making me trip on the stairs.

Maybe his hold on my elbow would at least prevent me from falling down the stairs…

When we reached the bottom landing, he let go of my elbow and stopped. I reflectively pulled my elbow close to my body, rubbing at the soreness with my other hand.

"You hurt me," I accused, meeting his eyes. He might intimidate me, but he couldn't stop me from speaking my mind.

"What was the reason behind your visit?" Mr. Evans asked, ignoring my previous non-reply and my accusation at his insensitivity.

I searched his blank eyes, my thoughts running a mile a minute. What would be the smartest road of action here? Should I collaborate Max's lie? Even though his father had already seen through it?

I had a distinct feeling I couldn't tell him the truth. I don't really know why, but I was pretty sure that Max's dad wasn't in on the whole Max-having-healed-me thingy. And I really didn't feel like pissing Mr. Evans off more than necessary.

I settled for telling him a new lie. A better lie.

"I wanted to ask him what he was doing outside of my house the night of the fire," I said, marking my voice with frustration while I crossed my arms tightly across my chest. "Something started that fire and-"

Mr. Evans looked almost amused as he raised a curious eyebrow, and interrupted me with, "And you think my son started the fire?"

"Your son-," I spit out, pouring every ounce of acting skills into protecting the secret Max and I had come to share, "-if you haven't noticed, is a very weird guy. At least at school. No offense, since he's your son and all."

Mr. Evans seemed even more amused. "Go on."

"The fire occurred really early on a Sunday morning," I continued, hoping that Mr. Evans' amusement was fueled by my depiction of his son and not because he might not be believing me. "What would he be doing there?"

Mr. Evans reflected my stance by crossing his own arms across his chest. "Max likes to take really early runs. He's something of - what do you kids call it," he smiled, "- a health nut."

Good.

I refrained from taking a deep breath of relief. Philip Evans seemed to believe me. Instead of interrogating me, he had switched to protecting and covering for his son. Which could only mean that he believed I was here to put Max on the spot and nothing else.

I swallowed. My throat was dry.

"Still odd," I mumbled, dropping my eyes.

"Maybe you'll do best at staying away from him then," Mr. Evans pointed out and I looked up at him. His calculating eyes were observing me intently.

"Yeah," I said and added with acid, "I would appreciate it if you would tell him to stay away from me too."

"Not a problem, Ms. Parker," Mr. Evans agreed and opened the front door. With a pointed gesture towards the opening, he nodded, "Goodbye, Ms. Parker."

My mouth twitched in what could've been a smile. It wasn't.

"Bye," I murmured and walked out the door of the large mansion.

The door slammed closed behind me and relief rushed over me with such intensity that I had to concentrate to not crumble to the ground.

Max Evans had healed me. Again.

Sean Carter's dad had beaten Max.

But the most mind-blowing and slightly frightening was; Max Evans was _interested_ in me.


	17. SEVENTEEN

**SEVENTEEN**

"You're back."

I turned towards the voice, frowning as I tried to place it, and found myself face to face with Sean.

"Oh, hey," I said, an unexpected chill running through my body.

Sean leaned against the lockers, his blue eyes searching my face and traveling down my body. I felt slightly violated and had to stop myself at the last second from snapping at him.

Whoa… Where did that aversion come from?

"I thought you were taking the week off," Sean continued.

Had I really gone on a date with him?

Why?

I desperately searched my emotional memory bank but came up with no explanation.

I had a very distinct memory of Sean kissing me - and me _not_ slapping him. I took a step back, putting more space between us as I remembered his lips on mine.

Sean looked confused, and a bit upset, which made me frown. "I'm so sorry about your mom."

Maybe I should say something. Sean was looking increasingly uncomfortable with his involuntary monologue.

I just didn't have much to say to him. I chewed on my bottom lip in contemplation. How did I manage to go through a whole date with this guy if I couldn't come up with anything to say even in greeting?

He was looking at me very strangely. "Are you okay?"

What do you think, Sean? My mom was just burned to death.

I squashed the venomous and dark thought. Sean was only showing concern about my well-being. There was no need to get ugly about it.

Then why was I suddenly convinced Sean Carter was my enemy?

"I've been better," I said, annoyance seeping into my voice unintended.

"I'm sorry I haven't called," Sean said hesitantly, as if he was looking for an explanation as to why I was being so cold.

Well, if he found an explanation, I wanted to know it too.

I shrugged. "'S okay."

Before I had a chance to react, he had closed the space between us and circled his fingers around my upper arm. His face was close to my face - a little bit too close for comfort - and he whispered in demand, "Look at me."

I looked up at him and hissed, "What are you doing?"

"It's _me_ ," Sean whispered back harshly, his fingers tightening around my arm.

Yeah, so what?

"Let go of me," I said coldly.

He didn't. Instead he looked into my eyes so intently that I thought he was trying to count my eyelashes.

"Why is it not working?" he grumbled frustrated.

" _I said_ , let go of me," I repeated slowly hoping that his staring into my eyes would help him spot that I was serious.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself and let go of my arm.

I looked at him, perplexed, as he took a step back and ran his fingers through his hair. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I'm only concerned for you," he fired back, his waxed hair now pointing in all directions.

"Well," I said in disbelief. "You have a very funny way of showing it."

"Liz?" Maria said behind me and I felt myself relax. Even though Sean and I were standing in the very busy corridor of a high school, Sean's presence had frightened me. Looking at him now, he seemed to be losing it.

Over what?

I didn't know if I should cry or laugh. Why was my life suddenly so confusing?

"Is everything okay?" Maria continued.

"Yeah," I answered, keeping my eyes on Sean. I didn't feel like turning my back on him. "Sean was just leaving."

Sean inhaled deeply, let the out-of-the-blue anger run off him, and smiled at me. But I could see the cracks in that smile. "I'll talk to you later, Liz."

He walked past me, bumped his shoulder against mine and I mumbled in a delayed response to his promise, "Please don't."

"What happened?" Maria asked, eyes wide open, as she walked around me. "Didn't you really like Sean?"

I grimaced. Did I? What the hell was I on? Maybe it was the death of my mom that had sobered me up. Made me see that life is too precious to waste on blue-eyed blond jocks.

I shrugged. "He was annoying me."

Maria looked concerned and I felt my heart drop. Not that look. She was thinking about my mom. About my _situation_. Her empathy was pulling at me to react, to respond. But I couldn't. I couldn't let her drag me into that reality; the reality I was trying really hard to repress. If I let myself _feel_ I would fall apart. I couldn't do that. I had only just managed to drag myself back to school.

"Have you eaten?"

I shook my head. "Nah. I'll try and grab something for lunch."

Maria considered this for a moment before letting it go. Thank God.

She nodded. "Okay." Turning to her locker, she breathed in a fake upbeat tone, "Well, I have English-"

"And I have History," I finished.

Maria opened her locker and pulled out her books. "Right." Slamming the door closed and shuffling the the numbers on the combination lock, she looked at me with a very maternal and compassionate look, "See you at lunch then?"

I nodded. "Sure."

She smiled at me hesitantly and her eyes teared up. Oh no.

"Love you," she said softly and my heart broke a little.

God, I loved this friend of mine. But I was drowning in emotions. I couldn't reflect on yet another one right now.

"Love you too," I whispered back.

Her smile got larger and more teary and, before she could dissolve into tears, she left me alone at the lockers.

I pulled my history book out of my locker, locked it up and headed for the classroom. As I turned the last corner before my destination, something (again) grabbed my arm and pulled me.

Being completely unprepared for the event, my body followed like a rag doll, tripping on its feet at the sudden sideway movement. I didn't have time to look around and see who had so rudely snagged me from the corridor before I was trapped in a small janitorial closet, the front of my body lined up with the hard front of Mr. Mysterious.

I should name this chapter of my life 'The repeated incidents of being grabbed against my will by rude boys'.

"How are you feeling?" he breathed, eyes rapidly scanning my face, my throat, my body.

I shivered. With delight? Fear? I wasn't sure. Which was my regular mental state when it came to Mr. Max Evans.

I was acutely aware of the pressure of his hands on my upper arms, the way his fingers pressed into the softness of my poorly exercised muscles, as I raised two eyebrows and questioned, "What? Not even a 'hello'?"

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze darkening. "This is not a joke."

I mirrored his narrowing, glaring at him. If there had been any space left over in the closet, I would have folded my arms across my chest. Instead, my increasingly agitated breathing was making my chest brush repeatedly against his. With every breath.

I gritted my teeth against the (wonderful) sensation.

"No, it's not," I agreed. "You can't just pull girls into janitorial closets without their permission."

"I didn't get to finish what I started," he said, letting go of my arms and running his hands down my body.

My breath got stuck in my throat and the part of me in charge of clearing social boundaries was shocked at the liberties Max Evans took with my body, while the majority of me wanted to close my eyes, lick my suddenly dry lips and revel in the soft fleeting caresses.

I was promptly brought back to rationality as he caught a hold of the lower hem of my shirt and pulled it upwards. The action made my cheeks flush in embarrassment and indignation, and I slapped at his hands while automatically taking a step back - flushing myself against the wall.

"Don't," I said quietly.

He met my eyes and it was fascinating to watch the realization of his actions dawn in his eyes. He swallowed and took a step back, melting his own back with the wall, leaving the maximum distance of four inches between our bodies.

His eyes were serious in the setting of his shadowed face as he slowly stated, "You have a wound."

"No," I denied, shaking my head for emphasis.

"I didn't heal it the first time," he continued, ignoring my obvious lie. "Nor the second."

"I don't want you to," I whispered and watched his expression turn puzzled.

"Why not?" he wondered, his face an amazing mix of bewildered, fearful and angry.

I hesitated. I didn't want him to know the reason. It would sound ridiculous out loud.

When the silence turned into prolonged seconds, Max closed the few inches between us and towered above me. I looked up into his bewitching eyes and took a deep breath to relish in the smell that was all Max.

"It must hurt," he said softly, the frown marring his forehead telling me that he was still trying to figure out why I would want to keep a wound on my stomach.

I nodded and slowly licked my lips. His eyes flickered to my lips and a heatwave flushed through my body.

"Let me heal it," he said and it was my turn to frown.

"Why do you care if it's healed or not?" I asked tersely.

"Because you're my responsibility now," he answered and a chill raced down my spine.

What an odd thing to say.

He must have read the thought on my face because he hurried to add, "I don't want you to be in pain."

"I'm not your responsibility," I said, my throat drying up. Being this close to him - to any guy - was making me nervous. But it was different with Max. He had the ability to make even the most basic stalking behavior seem attractive.

He considered my firm statement for a moment, before, "Why won't you let me heal it?"

"None of your business," I replied, with less force and authority than I had planned for.

Damn Max Evans and his proximity. He was making it hard for me to act normal.

"You know," I said before he could counter, "I have classes to go to. Grades to uphold. I don't have time for these secret rendezvous in confined spaces."

"We shouldn't be seen together," Max said as a way of explaining. He was serious. Brooding. Dark. And way way too close.

"Why? Because if people see us in the same vicinity of each other they'll somehow figure out that you have magical powers?"

He practically rolled his eyes and sighed. "No. Because you wanted me to stay the hell away from you." The confusion on my face made him elaborate, "At least; That's what you told my dad. I was given strict orders earlier this morning - by my dad - to not bother Ms. Parker ever again."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Oh, that."

And with a sudden turn of emotions, Max grinned, "Nice save, by the way."

"Hmm," I contemplated. "Strange how he wouldn't believe your lie about helping me out with homework, but he would immediately believe a story about his son being a creepy stalker."

Max's grin turned into one of mockery. "Ha. Ha."

I averted my eyes from his gaze and mumbled under my breath, "Even your dad thinks you're weird."

"You think I'm weird?"

There was amusement in his voice and a hint of the dark magnetism that always captured my attention. I dared to look up into his eyes and inhaled deeply at the emotions there. He seemed genuinely interested in my answer, at the same time as there were much deeper and darker feelings accompanying the wait for my answer.

I wanted to throw lines of sarcasm at him for his naivety. Did he honestly believe that he wasn't weird? He healed with his hands, he had some kind of weird influence over Sean Carter, he was beat up by Sean Carter's dad (and neither Max nor his family had pressed any charges - not that I knew of anyway), and he always seemed to be around when I was in a crisis. To top it off, his dad was - if possible - even weirder.

But the memory of Max's bitter and somewhat sad reaction when I tried to compliment him on his healing ability prevented me from informing him of the obvious.

I decided on a counter-question instead, "Why is it that I'm the only one that thinks that? How have you managed to bewitch everyone around you to think otherwise?"

There was the hint of a grin on his lips, but his contemplative eyes quickly took over. I stumbled on my next breath as he gently grabbed a loose tendril of my hair, the back of his fingers brushing against my cheek, and whispered with his eyes locked on my lips, "I don't know."

And the school bell rang, almost scaring the daylights out of me. I jumped and Max's hand abruptly interrupted the intimate gesture of his fingers against my cheek.

"We should go," he said, slightly out of breath.

I nodded wordlessly and his eyes caressed my face for another two seconds before facing the door and inviting the noise and commotion of high school into our bubble.

In the blink of an eye, Max was outside of the small space that had just brought us frighteningly close together. But before he could get too far, my voice stopped him, "Max."

He quickly (and with an edge of paranoia) scanned his surroundings before settling his dark eyes on my face.

"I-" I hesitated and licked my lips.

"What, Liz?" he asked quietly, looking worried all of the sudden.

"I need some answers, you know." I watched his face grow pale underneath his tan and hurried to add, "I have so many questions."

"Yeah," he breathed, suddenly looking like he was about to throw up.

I tentatively closed the small distance between us, coming to a hesitant stop in front of him, feeling small in his tall presence. "Could we talk? Later?"

I hated to beg. I was used to not needing anything from another person.

But I desperately needed information. About the healing. About my mom. About who (or what) Max really was.

And Max Evans was the only one - that I knew of - that could provide me with that said information.

I imagined hearing a tremble in his voice as he breathed, "Yeah."

"Okay," I agreed, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

His eyes flickered to my mouth, sending a blast of heat through me, and continued downwards, making my legs shake. He hitched his head towards my abdomen and said in that normal, stable and confident voice of his, "Let me know if that hurts," referring to the burn left on my stomach. The burn he seemed to know about even without actually _looking_ at my stomach.

Another question that needed an answer.

I nodded mutely and watched him turn and disappear down the corridor.


	18. EIGHTEEN

**EIGHTEEN**

The spray from the hot water accidentally hit the abraded skin on my abdomen, just below my ribs, and a jolt of pain shot through me. I bit down on a scream and quickly whipped my back into the stream of water, letting the water pelt my healed neck instead.

Pain continued to flow and ebb around the wound for another minute, and I wrapped myself up in the thorny and prickly blanket of reality that pain brought.

Keeping the wound, holding onto the pain it brought, must be kind of why some people cut themselves. When the emotional pain grew to such magnitudes that it could no longer be contained, it needed a physical release. By slicing through your skin, by focusing your attention on that pain, you finally got some relief from the suffocating emotional distress as physical pain momentarily drowned everything else out.

But as the pain diminished, my mom's face swam in front of my eyes. Her laughter echoed around me, bouncing between the tiled walls of the shower, and her hand lovingly brushed through my wet hair.

The pain was building in my chest, the pain of my heart being ground into a cold mix of muscle, reverberating through my body. My fists closed along my body and I pressed my lips tightly closed to suppress the screams.

I didn't want to frighten my dad. He was outside, seated in the small couch, in one of the three rooms of our small rented apartment.

While my fingernails dug into the center of my palms, drawing blood, I pictured my dad. Daddy, who silently cried in front of the TV every night since the death of his wife. Sometimes I wished for him to scream, to throw things around him, to curse God. Just make a lot of noise.

Instead, the tears silently rolled down his cheeks. One after the other. Second by second. Minute by minute. Hour by hour. There was barely a sob, not even a sniffle.

So who was I to scream in the shower?

Tears were streaming down my cheeks now as well. They were perfectly contained within the tear ducts throughout the day, but come night, come shower time, and it was a waterfall of salty sorrow mixing with the almost scolding water of the shower.

I bit my lower lip, bending my head back, letting the water disguise my tears and wash away the sound of my sobs. I was having trouble breathing, the sensation of an elephant sitting on my chest becoming increasingly present, as my breath caught on my sobs.

I'd never had a panic attack or an anxiety attack, but I realized then that I was dangerously close to one.

My throat wanted to close up, not letting my lungs expel the carbon dioxide, making my breaths shorter and shorter and my panic build.

I tried to redirect my thoughts, but I seemed to have lost control.

My life was at the mercy of my emotions.

 _Breathe._

I gasped as Max's voice filled my head. The fleeting - ghostly - caress across the top of my chest shocked my body out of the building anxiety attack, and instead switched to fear as I was overcome with the strongest feeling that Max was standing right behind me.

Behind my very naked body.

 _Calm down._

I whipped my head around, convinced now that he was in fact standing behind me. He wasn't.

Instead my thoughtless movement placed my wound straight back into the stream of hot water and, this time, I cried out loudly.

"Lizzie?"

I bit the inside of my cheek at my father's voice. He had moved to the outside of the bathroom door in the fraction of a second.

"Are you okay, honey?"

I surveyed the empty space around me, my hands shaking in the cascade of water, droplets of blood from the raw abrasion on my abdomen being watered out in long light pink trials down my left thigh.

"Yeah," I yelled over the sound of the water, my voice catching on the aftermath of pain. "I'm fine, dad." I looked around me again, searching. Irrationally searching for _him_. "There was a burst of cold water, that's all."

"Okay," my dad said, the apprehension conspicuous in his voice, but apparently believing my explanation.

I heard him shuffle away from the door. My breathing was harsh in my ears as I looked at the tiled blue wall in front of me, my back yet again protecting my abdomen from the water, and whispered, "Max?"

Of course, there was no answer. There was no one there.

I shook my head at my own insanity, swallowed a big gulp of air, and angled my face into the water by pushing away my lower body to protect it from the water, as I tried my best to finish my shower.

* * *

Dad was positioned in front of the TV.

It was the same position I had found him in every night since I'd moved out of the temporary stay at Maria's and moved in with him in the rental apartment.

The lower part of his face was slowly becoming covered in a dark brown beard, his hair was dark and shiny with greasy buildup, there were dark purple circles under his red tear-stricken eyes and the prominence of his cheekbones told me that he was not eating properly.

My dad was broken.

At least _I_ had school to distract me, but dad had lost his business in the fire. Which meant that he had a horrible amount of time to do nothing but obsess and analyze what had happened. Even though he didn't mention it, I was pretty sure the 'What ifs' were eating him up on the inside.

So I had to be the strong one. I had to be the one that cried in the roar of the shower and swallowed my screams. I had to repress and deny what had happened, just so that I could function when my dad didn't.

Someone had to get groceries, after all.

Maybe it was a good thing that in the midst of losing my mom, I had found out that a boy at my school had healing abilities. It was a very welcomed distraction to the chaos and grief that was now my life.

Had I not found that little detail out at the same time as my house was burning down, taking mom with it, I'd probably be a lot more freaked out. Instead, I almost cherished the fiction; the escape from reality.

Because that's what it was. That's what it still felt like. _Fiction._

Even though I knew that it had happened - _knew_ that I had been badly burnt and Max had healed me - my rational and scientific mind was really having an uphill battle trying to accept it.

Which is why I needed answers. I needed more information from Max to help me wrap my head around what had happened. I needed to make sure that Max Evans was not a threat. That he could be trusted. Because my instincts were too messed up to come to a decision based on the current information.

I moved up to my dad on the couch and sank down next to him on the couch. Wordlessly, I curled up against his side, burrowing my face in his shirt and breathed in the smell of childhood and safety.

Dad put his arm around my shoulders, squeezed me tightly against his side, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"I love you, Daddy," I whispered, struggling to keep my voice even.

"Love you too, Ella," he replied and my heart clenched.

 _Ella._ He hadn't called me that since I was little.

A tear escaped my eye and I fisted his shirt in my hands. It was just the two of us now. Dad and I.

* * *

Ever since I requested that Max should answer my questions, Max had been the perfect magician. He kept on disappearing on me, dodging around corners as I approached and moving seats in the classroom to avoid being in my vicinity.

I idly wondered if I smelled bad, if the wound on my stomach had started putrefying, emitting a strong smell of dead tissue and infection. But since no one else seemed to complain, I figured he was just plainly avoiding me.

Unfortunately, Sean Carter wasn't.

Sean Carter was the glue under my shoe, the shadow behind my back, the smiling waving doofus as I searched for an empty seat in the canteen. Suddenly, he seemed to be taking classes that I had never seen him in before. _My_ classes.

His presence irked me. Made me feel nauseous and disgusted. Made me feel stalked.

And this time Max Evans was too busy avoiding me to warn me about Sean, as he had been so eager to do before.

I jumped as Michael plopped down opposite me, rudely catapulting me out of my reverie.

"Um hi?" I mumbled questioningly as he wordlessly helped himself to a French fry from my plate, folding it slowly into his mouth while the whole time keeping his eyes trained on me.

I swallowed. So it wasn't enough with Max and Sean behaving weirdly? Now I had to deal with Michael too?

One corner of Michael's mouth twitched in dark amusement at my discomfort and I corrected my inner monologue.

Michael wasn't really acting more weirdly than usual.

"Can I help you?" I asked, struggling to keep the shiver out of my voice. Michael always threw me off. With his dark, challenging eyes and the way in which he kept his calculating words to a minimum.

He pursed his lips in an expression of innocence and mutely shook his head while making a grab for another fry.

"Can't get your own food?" I asked.

He smiled at me, sending a cold shiver down my spine. "I prefer yours."

Fatigue mixed with annoyance began to build inside me. Why couldn't these people just leave me alone?

I grabbed my tray and snapped it out of his reach, the juice bottle tilted in its spot but eventually managed to remain standing.

Michael raised an amused eyebrow. "Testy."

"If you're only here to steal my food, then-"

Michael scoffed. "Don't get your fucking panties in a twist, Parker."

I glared at him the best I could, with my heart in my stomach. Michael freaked me out. I almost expected him to suddenly morph into an evil monster, propel himself across the table, put his hands around my neck and strangle the life out of me. Just for fun.

Those were just the vibes he was sending out on a regular day.

"Then what?" I snapped, the wound on my abdomen throbbing with my elevated body temperature.

"I want you to come to a party," Michael said simply, reached out and yanked my tray towards him.

 _Not this again,_ I thought, as I distractedly watched him continue to eat my fries. Why were people so intent on inviting the wallflower to their parties?

"Not interested," I mumbled, giving up on eating my lunch and crossing my arms defensively across my chest.

"I want you to bring that crazy friend of yours," Michael continued evenly, as if I had accepted his invitation rather than refused it.

I frowned. "Maria?" Why would Michael Guerin want me to bring Maria?

Michael leaned back against the backrest, staring at something next to my ear in contemplation. "Is that her name?"

"My crazy friend is Maria, yes," I said acidly. Michael had, if possible, managed to piss me off more in the last three minutes than Sean had done in the last three days.

"Bring her," Michael practically demanded.

" _She_ can go if she wants. I won't."

Michael's features changed into the same amused 'Now, now, little girl'-expression that Max sometimes donned. "We'll see."

He pushed back from the table, grabbed one fry in the movement, and said, "Andrew Young. Tomorrow. Around 8-9:ish. His parents are gone for the weekend."

"I'm not sure why you're telling me this," I said darkly. No way I was going to a party on an invitation by Michael Freaking Guerin.

"Tell her," Michael ordered, hitching his head at something behind me.

"Tell me what?"

I sighed at Maria's voice, looking over my shoulder to confirm that it was indeed my best friend standing there. By the time I turned my head back to grace Michael with the glare of death, he was gone.


	19. NINETEEN

**NINETEEN**

I was trying to keep my eyes open. I was trying not to fall asleep. Fighting sleep was difficult when you were running on empty.

But as soon as I fell asleep, there they would be. The nightmares. Of my mom's face melting, and me being burnt alive in my childhood home.

I slammed the book closed. Maybe reading a Jane Austen book was not the best method to stay awake. I usually loved them, but the old English language and the main male characters being portrayed as rude attractive boys, made my mind work too hard - made me think too much about my own life situation. Which resulted in me growing even more tired.

I reached for my iPad and started to scroll through the movies I had saved on it. Maybe action? Thriller? I scrunched my nose as movie after movie featuring 'Romantic Comedies' rolled by.

Definitely not.

I had just settled on 'Inglorious Basterds', and watched through the opening scene, when I was assaulted by a sensation akin to suction at the center of my chest.

I lost my breath as the impression of a vacuum cleaner attaching itself to my lungs befell me. Frightened, I sprung to my feet, the iPad tumbling forgotten onto my bed, and folded my hands around my throat. As if that action would somehow open up my airways.

The sensation was gone as quickly as it had erupted. A second later, I could breathe again and my body slumped tiredly back to the bed.

But the relief lasted only for a second, before my chest started heating up as if exposed to a really hot and intense sun. It wasn't uncomfortable, didn't even hurt, but it made me agitated and forced me back on my feet. I felt ready to fight, ready to defend myself; fueled with restless energy.

I felt strong. Invincible. Unbreakable.

It lasted for approximately one minute, before my pulse slowed down to normal and the sudden heat in my chest cooled and returned to normal.

I sank back down on my bed and stared unseeingly into the wall. I felt detached from reality and confused about everything that was going on in my life.

Was I going insane? It would be the most plausible explanation, after all.

Maybe when Max had healed me, he had drastically altered my mental status. Maybe he had messed up my neurons, messed up how my brain was wired.

Because lately I could hear Max's voice in my head, feel his presence in my shower and now this. Whatever the hell had just happened.

My hands were trembling, as if from exertion, as I picked up my iPad, distractedly scrolled the movie backwards to the point where I had been interrupted by odd phenomenon, and laid back against my pillows to watch.

Maybe if I just detached myself from everything, I would heal. I would be me again.

In spite of my best intentions, I fell asleep.

* * *

I awoke with a gasp, sitting up, the iPad tumbling to the floor and my body shaking from the abrupt yank into wakefulness.

Max's face swam in front of my mental eye and I had a very worrying feeling that something was terribly wrong. Terribly wrong with _him_.

I automatically reached for my cell phone, when I realized that I didn't have his number. Of course I didn't have Max Evans' number. Why would I?

The uncomfortable feeling of wrongness intensified and I had to get out of bed and pace back and forth in the small room in an attempt to calm my nerves. I felt restless and helpless. I glanced at the clock on the wall - 3.17 a.m. - and inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself.

Energy was fluttering underneath my skin, seeking escape routes. I bit my bottom lip so hard that I tasted blood while I fisted my hair and yanked. I felt like a madwoman, pacing the insides of a padded cell.

The most prominent emotion was concern. I was so worried about Max that I didn't know what to do with myself. Finding no other option but to wear a hole in the carpet, I waited and hoped that the feeling would stop.

I must have exerted myself with all the walking in the middle of the night, because a heavy fatigue enveloped me approximately ten minutes later. The fatigue was so pronounced and sudden that my body swayed on the spot, and for a second I thought I was about to faint. Instead I fell to my knees, took three deep breaths resting on all four, before crawling back to bed.

I just about managed to bring my body into bed before sleep claimed me. In the early phase of sleep, Max's voice seeped into my mind.

 _It's okay now._

* * *

"What the hell is she doing here?"

Max's angry hiss tore through me, like the hiss of a dangerous snake. I looked over my shoulder, falling straight into Max's thunderous eyes. He was basically glaring at me, but it was from Michael he demanded an explanation.

I tried to shake the ominous feelings - which came with Max's reaction - but I had rarely seen Max that angry. And I was pretty certain it was my attendance at the party that was upsetting him.

This, in turn, upset me. Made me feel unwanted and unwelcome. That my mere presence at a party could elicit such a violent reaction from someone.

My eyes skimmed the living room, filled with beautiful and gorgeous people, and my thoughts echoed Max's outburst.

Yes, what the hell was I doing here?

I had soon enough realized that the party, which Maria had deemed as a 'good distraction from your horrible life situation', was not your regular high school party.

This was a party for the elite.

I had never spoken a single syllable to most of the people in the room. They were as rich, stunning and smooth as Isabel, Max and Michael. But they were still not the same as my mysterious trio, even though the similarities tended to stack themselves up in my head the further into the night the party continued.

I didn't hear Michael's reply, because in contrast to Max's furious remark, Michael's reply was the more discreet and whispered one.

I was just about to turn my head and see what reaction Michael's answer had created in Max when Sean stumbled in through the front door. It didn't take someone with an impressive IQ to figure out that he was quite intoxicated.

I instinctively took a step back, intending to move on to another part of the house, when Maria appeared in front of me - blocking my escape route.

"Liz," she whispered loudly, grabbing my hand and leaning in close to my face. Her eyes were wide-opened and somewhat shocked as she hissed, "This is the weirdest party I've ever been to." She gestured towards the Bold and the Beautiful and added, " _Who are_ these people?"

I squeezed her hand and countered, "Let's go to the kitchen."

"Sure," she breathed, still wide-eyed and perplexed.

I pulled her along by the hand in search of the kitchen. Spotting the entrance to the modern and expensive-looking kitchen, I realized - to my relief - that the kitchen was basically deserted. Thank God.

"-focus on the color instead, your mind tweaks it-"

I pulled up short, Maria bumping into me from behind. Courtney Green, standing just around the corner of the entrance to the kitchen, abruptly interrupted what she had been saying to her friend and was staring at me and Maria with cold disapproving eyes.

The friend, whom Courtney had been talking to, mimicked the intimidating stance and I found myself apologizing with a murmured, "Sorry," before turning around, still pulling Maria along with me.

Maybe I should add 'paranoia' to my list of newly acquired mental instabilities. Because I was pretty certain that people at this party were whispering about me, _talking_ about me. I had never been much of a girl in desperate need of validation or wanting to be liked by everyone, but I had never so acutely felt like an outsider as I did in that moment.

"Party's over," I said to Maria, a nervous and uncomfortable flutter in my stomach. There had been warning bells from the second I stepped over the threshold to this house, but I had desperately ignored those small chimes. With every passing minute spent at this place, those chimes had transformed into extremely noticeable bongs, and they were becoming increasingly difficult to overlook.

"We just got here," Maria protested weakly. I could tell that she was feeling it too - the wrongness - even though she couldn't explain it and wasn't as eager as I was to act on her feelings.

"This party sucks," I said under my breath, dragging Maria through a corridor, heading towards the front door. "It's just not our scene, Ria."

"There's my girl!" a voice boomed behind me, making me jump in the midst of reaching for the door knob.

I had time to register the look of surprised confusion on Maria's face, before the owner of the announcement wrapped his arms around my middle, pressed my back up against his front and dug his fingers into my semi-healed burn wound.

I screamed. I failed to stop it. I was completely taken off guard and the control I normally had over the pain scattered in the blink of an eye.

"Let go of her!" Maria's voice was frightened and confused. My scream of pain had probably frighten her more than anything, considering that it was an unusual reaction to being 'hugged'.

The person released the grip and I stumbled forward, gasping for air.

Maria's hands were fluttering over my bent over back as she angrily accused the person who had made me scream, like the bear-mother she was, "What did you do to her?"

"Chill," the voice answered evenly and through the curtain of pain the voice sounded familiar. "I didn't do anything."

"Liz," Maria addressed me. "What happened, hun?"

I focused on her voice and on trying to breathe. My breath was stuck every time the breath got deep enough to painfully stretch the tender skin over the wound.

"It's nothing," I mumbled. "It wasn't his fault."

He couldn't have known. Of course, he couldn't have known. I had a terrible wound that no one knew of. Only Max.

Speaking of Max…

"What happened?"

Relief flooded me, making my knees unsteady, as his sharp and angry voice entered my awareness.

"She-" Maria started, but her voice was interrupted by sounds of commotion, of the legs of a chair scraping against the floor and something possibly made out of glass shattering against the floor.

"What the hell did you do?"

He sounded further away, his voice trembling with anger, and I heard the other person's voice - _Sean_ \- defending himself sullenly.

It was Sean. It was Sean that had 'hugged' me. I closed my eyes and forced myself to fight the pain and straighten my body.

"You don't want to do that, Evans," Sean said, his voice strained.

I opened my eyes and saw Max pressing Sean up against the wall, furniture pushed aside, gripping Sean forcibly by the collar.

I struggled for another breath, feeling the pain slowly returning to 'normal' levels, as I took a step towards the angry guys.

"Remember our talk last night?" Sean ground out, his face turning a dark shade of red. I presumed that Max was cutting off his air supply.

"Stop," I whispered, my voice raspy, and placed my hand on Max's strained bicep.

He didn't move a muscle, his jaw tight, his eyes burrowing into Sean's head.

"He didn't know," I added hoarsely.

"Didn't know what?" Maria asked, pressing her hand comfortably against my right shoulder blade, lending me her support through her touch.

"Isabel," Max said through clenched teeth.

Maybe the trembles rushing through his body was not because of exertion, but because of restrained anger.

I scanned the room (everyone was looking, staring silently) and spotted, to my surprise, Isabel in a corner. Our gazes collided; hers emitting discomfort and uncertainty.

"Get her out of here," Max continued, addressing his sister without taking his eyes off Sean, and I knew that he was talking about me.

"I'll take her," Michael said, suddenly at my side.

Max whipped his head towards him, his dark gaze briefly brushing over my worried shape, before bearing down on Michael. To my surprise, I saw Michael take a step back.

I swallowed. Apparently it was a bad thing to mess with Angry Max Evans. Even if you were Michael Guerin, the best friend.

"No," Max said tightly. "Isabel will."

Was it because Michael had invited me here? Was that the reason to the wedge between the good friends?

"I'm staying," I objected, sounding braver than I felt. But I wouldn't let Max send me off like I was being sent to my room. I was growing increasingly scared that Max was going to hurt Sean, and I needed to stick around to make sure that didn't happen.

Max looked back at me. Really looked at me this time. "No. You're not."

"Let him go," I pleaded, trying to soften him, making him see reason.

"This doesn't concern you," Max replied.

It didn't? Really?

A well-manicured hand wrapped gently around my upper arm and Isabel softly said, "Come with me, Liz."

I frowned, searching Max's emotional eyes for an explanation. "Of course it concerns me. He didn't know. It was an accident."

"Please," he said and there was a touch of the gentler Max I had gotten to know over the past few days. The Max that softly caressed my wounds away with his bare hands. "Would you please just take my word for it and leave?"

But I wouldn't back down. He might be used to ordering people around, used to even the closest people to him taking a literal step back at his anger, but I wouldn't be one of them.

Instead I briefly looked at Sean, at the worrying redness to his face, at the redness of his eyes and the small fights his body was making in its struggle to be released. "You're hurting him."

"He deserves it," Max said and returned his attention to his victim.

But maybe my frank observation had made him consider his actions, because a second later he released his captive, Sean falling forward with a gasp before starting to cough.

"You'll pay for this," Sean wheezed and his eyes danced to my face, a small grin forming on his lips as he added pointedly, "And you know how."

Before I had the chance to consider what he meant by that, Sean's nose was bleeding from Max's explosive punch to his face.

"Max!" I gasped and vaguely felt Isabel pull on my arm.

"See what I mean?" a female voice said in a hushed voice from the crowd.

"-shouldn't expose himself like this," another voice murmured.

"-sergeant will have his neck for this."

" _Shut the fuck up! Everyone!_ "

I jumped at Michael's eruption and Isabel's hand fell away from my arm. I looked around the suddenly muted crowd, feeling hostility coming towards me in waves.

 _Who were these people?_

"We're leaving," Max said close to my ear as he grabbed my hand. "Now."

I pushed back the warm feelings his action of holding my hand brought and stumbled after him. I whipped my head around to look for Maria, while trying to keep up with Max. To my relief, she was right behind us, looking frightened and stunned.

My eyes flickered to the handbag bouncing from Maria's arm and I remembered that I had left mine on the couch in the living room.

"Wait!"

But Max ignored me. It was as if something really bad were hunting us and we needed to keep moving. All I could see, however, were beautiful people, staring after us with blank faces.

I shivered. Come to think of it; that was - in its strangeness - almost as frightening as being hunted by a big one-eyed monster ready to swallow us whole.

"What's wrong with your friends?" Maria asked breathlessly, trying to keep balanced on her high heels.

"Max, my handbag," I tried again, my voice just as breathless.

"Her handbag," Maria repeated, as if she would have more luck getting through to Max.

Max's hand closed around the doorknob to the front door and he stilled.

Closing his eyes and bending his head, he took a deep breath. With his eyes still closed, he mumbled in resignation, "Fine. Get your damn bag." His eyes opened and he looked straight at me. I trembled. "No deviations. You come straight back."

I saw a flicker of that comforting concern behind his anger and I nodded, my throat dry. "Of course."

"I'll just keep Max here company," Maria said, attempting a smile. "Prevent him from committing murder." She grimaced and added under her breath, "Or something."

I mustered up a smile at my friend and with a lingering gaze into Max's intense eyes, I left to find my bag.

It was like walking into a den of hungry lions. The conversations had not resumed since having been interrupted by the fight between Max and Sean. Except for some low background music it was eerily quiet as I scurried towards the couch.

I breathed a sigh of relief to see that my bag hadn't moved. As I made a grab for it, Sean spoke behind me. His voice was so clear and loud in the silence of the room, that I jumped.

"I'm sorry about before," he said, his voice probably a whisper, even though the quiet setting exaggerated its volume.

I turned towards him, seeing that his cheek was already turning blue from Max's punch. He had wiped his nose from the blood, but there was an odd angle to his nose.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly, surprised that I was genuinely concerned for him.

"I'll be fine," he brushed off and smiled at me smoothly. "Any idea what got Max's panties in a twist?"

I matched his smile with a tentative one as I looked down unseeingly at my fingers fiddling with my bag. "No clue."

There was a pause before he leaned in, his face close to mine, "Did I squeeze too hard? I didn't mean to hurt you. I've had a little bit too much to drink, that's all. It usually affects my control over my body." He chuckled at this and I should've relaxed at his disarming manner.

But my 'spider sense' was still tingling.

"It was not your fault. You just took me by surprise, that's all." I hitched my head towards the front door. The wall between the hallway and the living room hid my view from the front door. And hid us from being seen by Max and Maria. "I should go. They're waiting for me."

I turned around to do just that, but Sean stopped me. "Hey, wait."

I inhaled deeply, clutching my bag to my chest, dropping my eyes to avoid the everyone's stares. It was extremely weird to have a conversation in front of so many quiet and staring people. People who were listening in on your conversation.

"I think I saw your phone in the kitchen."

I frowned, "No, I don't think so." I hadn't removed my phone from the bag. But on reflex, I opened my bag and looked inside. The crease between my eyes grew deeper as I searched through the content. My phone was gone.

"Um," I mumbled, making another search through the bag, even though it was obvious it wasn't there.

"I'll take you," Sean offered and I looked in the direction of the hallway.

 _No deviations._

Max's voice whispered through my mind at the same time as I realized that I couldn't leave my phone behind.

And Sean seemed to know where my phone was.

"Okay," I agreed, saw Sean's beaten face bloom into a smile, and pushed back the feeling of foreboding as I let Sean lead the way.


	20. TWENTY

**TWENTY**

"Hmm," Sean murmured in contemplation, brushing his hand across the kitchen counter. "It was here before."

I clutched my handbag closer to my body, probably looking like a frightened old lady, guarding her most priced possessions.

My bag didn't contain any priced possessions, though. I think my wallet only stored two dollars at the moment. I just didn't know how to contain the dark thoughts rushing through my head. The thoughts that this whole place was out to get me. To do terrible things to me.

"I could ask around," Sean volunteered.

"Sure," I mumbled, scanning my surroundings. At least we were alone in the kitchen. The mute statues were still in the living room.

"Stay here?" Sean requested, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Sure," I repeated, not really paying attention. I really really really wanted to get out of here.

It troubled me greatly that Max had been so eager to leave the party, even though we had been amongst his people. His crowd. There must be a reason why he would 'turn' on them. And I had a feeling that the reason wasn't a good one.

"Be right back," Sean added before leaving the kitchen.

I took a deep breath. Discounting the time when I had seen my childhood home go up in flames, not knowing if my mom was inside or not, I had never been this scared in my whole life.

But I waited for twenty-three quiet seconds (the house eerily lacking the usual sounds accompanying a high school party), before my nerves couldn't take it anymore. I spotted a door leading outside and decided to take that one. I really didn't want to walk through that living room again. I would just go outside, walk around the house, and meet up with Maria and Max at the front.

Walking up to the back door, I decided to let my phone go. They could keep it. It didn't mean anything if I had to be this scared to get it back.

The door was unlocked (thank God) and I quickly pushed it open and stepped out into the night.

It was dark. And the silence of the party mimicked the silence of the outdoors.

I carefully, and as quietly as I could, closed the door behind me and stepped out onto the patio. Spotting movement out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sean enter the well-lit kitchen and, by some instinct I couldn't really explain, I ducked behind a bush.

I heard him call my name as I snuck behind the cover of the vegetation, crouching uncomfortably to hide my petite frame. I was grateful that I hadn't taken Maria's advice to wear high heels.

I froze as I heard the door open.

"What are you doing out here, Lizzie?" Sean called out and there was a certain smugness in his voice that informed me that he wasn't just saying that; he could see me.

But instead of straightening and laughing it off, my body told me to _Run!_

So I did. With Sean's laughter following me, branches clawed my face and my arms as I ran through the garden.

"Don't be ridiculous, Liz!" Sean yelled and laughed as though he didn't have a care in the world. "What are you doing?"

As I ran, I faintly wondered about my reaction. In most ways, it was ridiculous. There was no logical explanation for my irrational need to escape and get as far away from Sean Carter and that party as possible. But lately, I've become progressively more likely to listen to my instincts.

I approached a wooden toolshed at the bottom corner of the garden and was just about to seek cover behind it when someone caught a hold of me and I screamed.

My scream never broke the night as it was silenced by a hand over my mouth. The fear that had almost caused my heart to stop, and been very close to making me pee my pants, was slightly reduced as I instantly recognized my 'attacker'.

"Shh," he hushed into my ear and I wanted to cry. The relief was intense and overwhelming.

He was, consciously or not, holding me against his body by an arm wrapped across the top of my chest rather than around my middle. Avoiding my wound.

As he felt me relax against him, he slowly removed his hand from my mouth and I inhaled sharply.

I opened my mouth to speak, to ask him what was happening, to ask if I should be afraid of Sean, to ask what we should do now, but he somehow sensed my intention. His cool lips brushed against the shell of my ear as he whispered, "Don't speak. He's close."

"What does he want?" I asked worriedly, the volume of my voice matching his. My voice was not as calm and determined as his though. I was like a shivering leaf, about to fall apart. Only Max's arms were keeping me grounded.

"Shh," he hushed, an angry bite to that sound because I had ignored his command.

"Liz? Liiiz?" Sean sing-sang into the darkness of the night.

I bit my lower lip and let my head drop with my eyes closed, willing this living nightmare to go away. The descent of my head caused my lips to brush the upper side of his underarm. His hold on me tightened at the touch, and I relished in the security his embrace brought as I heard the bushes move and scrape against the wall of the shed, close to where we were hiding.

My chest was heating up. Initially I thought it was because of Max's hold on me (simple body heat), but I quickly recognized it as the same sensation I had gotten in the middle of the night, the night before.

My senses sharpened and my fear slipped away as I was overcome with that prior feeling of invincibility. The muscles of Max's underarm flexed against my collarbone and I could hear his breathing even out against my ear.

My thoughts were organized and structured, flashing through my head rapidly. I was pondering why Max had practically attacked Sean before, but now chose to passively hide from him. I was wondering why all the people at the party had acted so strangely. Did they know of Max's secret?

And why had Sean threatened Max?

What had the girls in the kitchen been talking about? And the whispered clipped sentences from the crowd during the confrontation between Max and Sean; what did they mean?

All of this went through my head in the blink of an eye, my acutely sharpened mind categorizing and filing them away for later. Because right now I needed to focus on silencing my breathing, on not moving a muscle, to pass unnoticed by Sean Carter.

Who was Sean Carter anyway?

I startled as Max grabbed my hand with his free hand, interlocking our fingers in a lovers' grip, and squeezed while whispering so close to my ear that his words were barely a whisper, "Trust me?"

There was not really any reason for doubt, considering the situation we were in - even though I had no idea what he needed me to trust him about. I was slowly realizing that Max was on my side; that he was actually, in his own way, looking out for me.

So with that realization dawning on me, I slowly nodded my affirmation and briefly wondered what situation that nod would sign me up for.

"Whatever happens; no sound," he breathed into my hair and I tensed as I felt a pull from the center of my stomach.

A cool breeze swirled around us, making the small hairs on my arms stand up and the ends of my hair momentarily lift. Then Sean stepped right in front us and I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent the gasp of fear and shock from tumbling into the night.

My whole body grew stiff and I could feel Max's breath rustle the top strands of my hair. I, myself, couldn't breathe, so I focused on Max's breathing instead.

Sean was staring right at us. But his eyes were blank. There was no spark of recognition. No sign of him actually looking at us.

My lungs ached from the lack of oxygen as my confusion grew to ridiculous levels. Couldn't he see us?

My eyes widened at the realization. _He can't see us_. He was standing right in front of us, _staring_ at us, but for some reason he wasn't _seeing_ us.

How was that possible?

I watched Sean's eyes search the surroundings, his gaze searching _through_ our bodies.

"Lizzie?" he called out, an expectant smile on his face. "I know you're here. I can still smell you."

I swallowed and felt Max's body tense against mine. The hand, that was still holding mine, tightened around my fingers and I became worried that Max was the one that was going to reveal our location. That he would be the one that couldn't control his reaction to Sean.

Sean was, after all, asking for it.

"I've got your phone, Lizzie," he taunted, but there was no phone in his hand as he continued searching the area.

He must actually be smelling me, I thought with a shiver. Otherwise he would have moved on by now. Instead he spent another two minutes looking through every inch of the area behind the shed - where Max and I were standing.

By the end of it, I could feel Max tremble behind me, as though from over-exertion. I could feel my own body grow weaker, craving oxygen it wasn't properly receiving due to the infrequent and shallow breaths I was pulling in fear of being discovered by Sean.

But, eventually, he moved on. With a bewildered expression on his face, he disappeared into the night, walking back towards the house.

I resisted the temptation to sag against Max, instead pulling out of his grip with a sharp tug. He released me, letting me spin around to face him.

"What the hell was that?!" I had time to hiss at him angrily before the surroundings blurred and the ground wobbled.

I saw him reach out a blurry hand towards me before I experienced the sensation of falling and everything blacked out.

* * *

I came-to in a car.

"Liz?"

I groaned, putting my hand to my head. I had a terrible headache.

"Oh my God." I recognized Maria's voice, felt her worried hands brush over my hair. "You scared me half to death! When Max came carrying you… I thought I was going to die. I thought you were dead!"

I winced. Ouch.

"Maria…your voice…" I complained, refusing to open my eyes. Did she have to talk so loudly?

I slowly opened my eyes, moaning softly. I felt hungover. Why did I feel hungover?

The events which had transpired just before I fainted quickly came rushing back to me - bombarding my tired brain with memories - and my eyes were suddenly wide open as I catapulted my upper body forward.

My frantic eyes scanned the surroundings. I was in Maria's car. But Maria was next to me in the backseat.

If Maria was… Who was…?

I met Max's eyes in the rearview mirror and felt myself relax. I hadn't been kidnapped along with my oblivious best friend. Max was driving.

I was surprised at the relief I felt at this. Apparently, at some point I had completely thrown all of my distrust of Max out the window. Even though he really had some explaining to do, I was more certain than that the sky was blue that he wouldn't hurt me.

"Max said you fainted," Maria continued, running trembling hands through her hair-sprayed hair. "He told me you were wandering around the garden and when he approached you, you probably got so scared that you fainted."

I felt my eye twitch in annoyance and I looked from Maria to the rearview mirror, where the reflection of Max's smirk met me.

Right. Because _that's_ what happened.

I gave him a challenging look, with an unspoken promise that I was not done with him. He graced me with an eye-roll and diverted his eyes back to the road.

"Max is taking us home," Maria continued. "That's nice of him, right?" She looked at me with a pointed look and I sighed internally.

Maria really was on a matchmaking trip.

If she only knew what Max and I had been up to these last couple of days…

"Your place?" I asked. We had already decided, before the party, that we would be staying at Maria's. I didn't want to disturb my dad by coming home late. Our apartment was so small that it was impossible to hide sounds.

"Yeah," Maria confirmed and leaned back against the backrest with a loud sigh. "Whoa… That was one hell of a night, wasn't it?"

I chewed my lower lip, rubbing my forehead with my fingers, trying to alleviate the pounding headache. "You can say that."

Max's eyes continuously flickered to the rearview mirror, looking at me. I didn't consciously meet his eyes, suspecting that he probably didn't know that I knew he was looking.

He was awfully quiet.

Maria leaned forward in her seat, seated behind the driver's seat, and asked neutrally, "Did you know any of those people, Max?"

"Some," Max replied shortly, his eyes focused on the road as I looked at him.

"Huh," Maria huffed to herself. Leaning back in her seat again, she added, "No offense - if they're your friends or something - but are they always so…weird?"

Count on Maria to be frank. I hid a smile as I looked at my friend. You go, Maria. Max needed someone else - besides me - to ask the difficult questions.

But Max didn't miss a beat as he calmly answered, "They like to hang with their own, that's all."

"'Their own'?" I asked. "And what group might that be?"

He met my eyes in the mirror, his eyes narrowing in warning. Okay, Maria got a civil answer while I got an irritated warning. What's up with that, Max?

"The rich and the beautiful," Maria filled in and - to my disappointment - saved Max from answering. Maria leaned forward again. "Right, Max? They are all from wealthy families?"

"Yeah," Max replied with finality, turning on the indicator to turn onto Maria's street.

Maria turned to me with a goofy smile. "That's why we didn't recognize them, Lizzie. They were probably wondering what your everyday girls like us were doing there."

"Maybe," I whispered, pressing my warm forehead against the cool window.

The car grew silent as I closed my eyes.

But Maria DeLuca wasn't very good with silences. "Babe? Are you okay?"

"Just a headache," I mumbled, my eyes still closed.

"Ah, okay…" Maria said, but I could tell from her voice that she wasn't really letting it go. I felt her eyes move over me as the car slowed down until it reached a stop outside of Maria's house.

I forced my eyes to open and straightened up. With more effort than should be needed, I slowly reached for the buckle to the seatbelt while Maria jumped out of the car.

Max surprised me as he opened the door on my side, me still struggling to get the seatbelt off. Without a word, he leaned into the car, removed my fumbling hands from the buckle and unclasped it.

His dark eyes were black in the dim light of the car as he pulled back out of the car. He was worried. For some explicable reason - even though his eyes told me nothing - I was positive beyond a doubt that he was riddled with worry. Worried about my well-being.

I was aware of Maria watching us, standing a couple of feet behind Max on the pavement with her arms around herself to fight off the chill of the night, as Max offered me a hand.

I trembled as I put my cold hand into his warm one. With a gentle tug, he pulled me out of the car and caught me against his body as my legs folded.

I noticed Maria frowning in the background. She must be thinking that I had been drinking.

"Careful," Max mumbled, remaining still until I could get my feet under me. I pressed my cheek to his chest, closed my eyes, and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart for another second, before I tried to gather my energy and strengthen my legs.

As I straightened my neck and raised my chin, I found him staring at me, dark turbulent emotions in his eyes.

For a second I thought he was going to kiss me, the look between us was so loaded, but instead he moved the hand he had placed gently at the small of my back to support my body and placed it against my forehead. As if he was checking my temperature.

Instantly, I felt that comfortable cooling effect, that I had almost grown accustomed to by now, chill my warm head. And just as suddenly as the headache had arrived, it was gone.

"Better?" he whispered, his gaze burrowing into my essence.

I nodded.

"She okay?" Maria asked behind Max, breaking our bubble. Max put some space between our bodies, but didn't let go of my hand.

"Can you walk?" he asked quietly, looking up and down my body in a way that made my cheeks flush.

"Yeah," I mumbled and took a Bambi-on-ice step around him. I didn't let go of his hand either, partially afraid that I was going to crash to the ground while the other part of me frankly didn't want to let go of him.

Maria came up beside me, snaking an arm around my waist to help me. I gave her a weak smile of gratitude.

"Did you hit your head when you fainted?" Maria asked as we walked up to the front door.

"I probably did," I whispered and as I did it struck me that I had just told my first lie to Maria in order to hide Max's secret. I wave of nausea weaved through me. I never wanted to lie to my best friend.

I was pretty certain that I had not hit my head when I fell. I suspected that Max had caught me; he had been standing too close not to. I was just as certain that the immediate fatigue I had felt after that Sean-incident had been the cause of my headache and my current weakness.

"You need some rest, chica," Maria said quietly and I winced at the concern in her voice. She pulled out her house key, unwrapped her arm from around my waist, and unlocked the door.

"I'll go inside and make up your bed," Maria whispered as she pushed the door open. She gave me a meaningful look that made me blush. "You just say goodbye to Max." With a knowing smile that made the mortification in me grow, Maria addressed Max with a wink, "Bye, Max. Thanks for driving my car home."

"Sure," Max mumbled and we silently watched Maria pull her shoes off and soundlessly pad into the darkness of the quiet house.

"You drove Maria's car?" I asked, not looking at him, our sides brushing and my hand covered by his much larger hand. I had been too out of it before to pay any attention to whose car I was in.

Max answered my question by clarifying my unasked follow-up question. "Isabel will pick me up."

"What happened?" I whispered, while looking unseeingly through the open dark doorway, referring to the mysterious circumstances surrounding our intersection with Sean.

"You fainted," he replied and I swallowed back the hurt.

Why was he still lying to me? He's healed me, for God's sake! What secret could be bigger than that to lie about?

I slowly pulled my hand out of his, took two steps forward to reach the house and leaned against the plastered wall while I looked at him.

I glanced behind me, to make sure that the house didn't have ears, before asking quietly, "Why couldn't Sean see us?"

He looked away, his jaw tightening. The night was folded around the contours of his body, making him melt into the shadows. I traced his profile with my eyes, fighting the tired weight of my eyelids.

"Max?" I implored, wanting an answer.

"I made us invisible," he said under his breath, so quietly that I wondered if I had heard him correctly.

Because _I made us invisible_ couldn't be what he had said, could it?

Before I had a chance to address that confusing answer of his, Max quickly closed the distance between us. He didn't touch me, but he was standing so close that it felt like he was embracing my whole body with his.

Looking deeply into my eyes, he said, "We have to stop doing this. You have to be more careful." His eyes flickered briefly (regretfully?) to my lips and I shivered with what could best be described as desire. "I'm dangerous. Being around me is dangerous."

"No-" I started but his eyes turned hard and he practically glared at me.

"Just look at what has happened since you've known me," he interrupted.

"I've always known you," I whispered weakly. I wanted to stop this. I desperately wanted to stop where this conversation was going. Sure, his secrets frustrated me to no end and his behavior was annoying at best, but I really didn't want him to say that we should stay away from each other.

Not when I had finally gotten used to the idea that I might have more than a passing interest in the mysterious Max Evans. That I had eventually grown to wish for Max to show up everywhere. To look at me with those magnetic eyes of his and, pathetically, I yearned for him to touch me.

Just like I did now. With him standing so close that the air between us was vibrating with tension, but he wouldn't touch me.

"Not this way," Max denied.

"So," I inhaled deeply, tightening the fist that was now supporting my weight against the house wall so hard that my nails were digging into my palm. "You're not gonna give me any answers." Frustratedly, I felt the tears of rejection pool in my eyes and I tightened my fist even further. "I'm just gonna ignore what has happened, what you've done for me?"

He looked away and took a step back. The chill of the night air encased me and a tear spilled down my cheek.

"It's for the best," he whispered, looking down and adding softly, "I never wanted to hurt you."

"You haven't," I objected and tried to close the space between us again. This meant me abandoning my support against the wall and I swayed slightly.

Max moved to help me, but stopped short of touching me. The lump in my stomach grew heavier and I swallowed back the threatening waterfall of tears.

I had never felt so rejected in my whole life.

"I have," he whispered, wanting to make me believe that he had caused me pain, and his guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. He looked up at me and added, "Just… don't go to any parties like the one you just attended. No parties on invitation by any of the people at that party. Don't hang around Sean-"

"I won't," I interjected. I had seen for myself the darkness inside Sean tonight.

"Good," Max breathed, his tense stance slightly relaxing. He took another step back. Another step away from me. "And don't hang around me."

I bit my bottom lip, biting back the threatening tears. "I deserve some answers, Max."

He shook his head, looking at me sadly. "No. No, you don't, Liz."

He looked towards the door and the hairs at the back of my neck stood up, alerting me to the fact that we were no longer alone.

"You need to get some rest, Ms. Parker," Max winked, his mask back in place, hiding his guilt and sadness to the unpracticed eye. But I could still see it there. Lurking. Hiding untold secrets. "It's way past your bedtime."

"Whatever," I grumbled, trying to fall back into the role of the disgruntled Elizabeth Parker. But the unshed tears were burning my eyes and my legs felt heavy carrying my leaded heart.

"Liz, come inside," Maria said softly behind me and I nodded, my eyes still trained on Max's face.

My breath hitched in anticipation as Max took two confident steps towards me, trapped my eyes with his for a long second, before leaning in and gracing my cheek with his warm lips in a soft lingering kiss.

I froze while my body heated. He had never kissed me before. I - nor my body - didn't even care that his lips were on my cheek rather than on my lips. It was still an earth shattering experience.

His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered, "Bye, Liz."

I couldn't reply, couldn't speak. My throat was clogged up. Instead my hand brushed against his in a fluttering caress as the sound of a car pulling up made us separate.

Max's ride had arrived. And with a sense of deep foreboding, I watched him climb into Isabel's car and leave.


	21. TWENTY-ONE

**TWENTY-ONE**

 _1\. How is Max able to heal?  
2\. Why did Sean's dad beat up Max?  
3\. What REALLY happened to mom? Why was she sick? How did Max know about it?  
4\. Why is Sean so interested in me?  
5\. WHY DID I KISS SEAN?!  
6\. Why are Max and Sean no longer friends?  
7\. How did Max make us disappear - turn INVISIBLE?  
8\. Why was Max's dad so horrible? Too scary to be a doctor!  
9\. Why did Max go to the hospital to learn from his father?_

I sighed, scrunched up the paper with my notes of 'One Million Questions' and threw the ball of paper into the paper bin.

A second later, I had retrieved it from its disposal, walked into the kitchen, switched on the garbage disposer and used a wooden spoon to push the ball of paper towards a macerated destiny.

You could never be too careful with information…

I had decided to reclaim the control of my life. I was done being played as a confused and emotional victim. Apparently, Max had been serious when he had told me goodbye five days ago. He had not even been at school since that night.

But if Max didn't want to give me the answers, I would take matters into my own hands and _find_ the answers.

Yes, I knew that Max had told me to stay away. That it was too dangerous. But I really didn't care what happened to me any longer.

My throat clenched and I corrected my inner monologue. That wasn't entirely true. I cared that it would hurt my dad if something were to happen to me. I didn't want to cause him any more pain than he was already living through.

But some detective work would surely help to distract me from my grief and divert me from reflecting on where Max was.

* * *

"Hey, Alex," I said when my friend answered my phone call.

"Lizzie," he announced, the happiness in his voice hitting me with instant guilt over being basically absent from his life these last couple of weeks.

And to make matters worse; I was only calling him today for a favor.

Ever the sweetest guy ever, Alex added with concern, "How're you holding up?"

"Eh," I replied vaguely, not wanting to say anything that might make me lose the feeble control over my feelings. Alex had a way of making me feel seen, which usually meant that he could make me feel everything I needed to feel in front of him; make me laugh when I was happy and cry when I was sad.

"Sorry for going MIA on you," I added, wanting to let him know that I was aware of ditching him.

"Don't sweat it, Parker," Alex said softly and my breath caught at the warm concern embedded in the warm nuances of his voice. Highly in tune with the increasing tension of the conversation, due to me trying not to break down and tell him just how miserable life was without a mother, Alex cleared his throat and asked in a lighter tone of voice, "How can I help you?"

I frowned. "How did you know that I needed your help?"

I swear I could hear his smile over the phone. "I've known you for a long time, Lizzie."

His observation made me match his presumed smile before I hastily got my question out, "How do I get a hold of public records?"

He chuckled. "They're _public_ , Lizzie. Shouldn't be a problem finding them."

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah. I know that, doofus. But practically - where do I find them? Do I have to contact specific departments? Agencies? Are they free?"

"They're supposed to be free," Alex replied tentatively. "I guess the easiest way is to acquire them online. I'll check for you, okay? I'll get back to you in no time."

"Great," I breathed in relief. "Thanks, Al."

Yep. Alex was my musketeer. My savior when it came to information retrieval and everything IT. Five minutes later, he had emailed me a couple of links for different online searches through public records and twenty minutes into the search I had acquired information on Max's grandfather - Mr. George Evans. No. Correction: _Dr._ George Evans.

Huh. Must run in the family.

I scrolled through the general information on date of birth, date of marriage, number of children and so on, until I noted that he was not born in Roswell.

He had moved here, in 1949, when he was just a kid.

I opened a new tab in the browser and pulled up a search for Diane Evans - Max's mother. Her ancestors had lived in Roswell for the past 90 years. She was born and raised here.

Perhaps…

The hunch rippled through me with adrenaline as I typed 'Sean Carter' in the search field. After finding the right Sean and gathering the first name of his father, coldness swept through me as I noted that Sgt. Steven Carter's father - Sean's grandfather - had, as a child, moved to Roswell in 1949.

From what I could tell, Max and Sean's grandfathers had nothing in common. Well, except for the fact that there was no information on their grandfathers' parents. They were both listed as 'orphans', but there was no known address to a previous orphanage, before coming to Roswell, and while Max's grandfather came from California, Sean's came from Minnesota.

Reaching for the glass of water next to me on the bedside table, I started typing in the grandparents of people I knew, people at my school. Especially the ones at the party I had attended the night before - with the rich and the beautiful.

I pulled up the White Pages and, together with Google Maps, pulled out names of people living in the most expensive parts of Roswell. Subsequently, I entered those names into the public records search engine.

Three hours later, I leaned back against the wall with a monotone dazed buzzing sound in my head. I stared at the screen, where I had gathered names in a text document.

The total number read 153.

153 families where the generation born in the late 30's or early 40's had all been orphans and moved to Roswell in 1949. Like some kind of mass immigration.

 _Or mass invasion…_

The thought disturbed me. Was this the connection I had been searching for? The connection that bound Max and Isabel's dad together with Michael's father and Sean's dad?

Maybe they were all related somehow. Maybe that's why they were all so beautiful.

I scrunched my nose and took another sip of my water before mumbling to myself, "No."

If a large part of Roswell was the product of some incestuous family, they would look a lot more similar.

The children of the '1949 Orphans' (as my mind had started to call them) had all earned a considerable wealth, meaning that the 153 families I had recorded were all families with deep pockets. And I hadn't even searched every citizen of Roswell, only the people in the nicest parts of Roswell.

I stilled, resting the cool water glass against my bottom lip in thought. What about my parents? Did they have anything in common with the descendants of these orphans? Did my _mom_ have anything in common with my 'suspects'?

I hurriedly placed the glass of water on the bedside table, closed my laptop, jumped off the bed, winced at the momentary sharp flash of pain in the skin of my burnt abdomen, pulled out my backpack and proceeded to push my laptop into it before slinging it over my shoulder and exiting the room.

Dad was watching TV.

"I'm going to the library," I told him, my voice hurried. He tore his eyes away from the screen as I whirled past behind him.

"Be careful," he mumbled, like I was going someplace a lot more dangerous than a building with thousands of books.

I stopped, retraced my steps, leaned down over his shoulder and placed a brief kiss on his cheek. "Love you, Daddy."

I could hear the tears in his voice as he murmured, "Love you too, Ella."

Ella. That nickname again.

I brushed off the mixed feelings it brought and rushed out the front door.

* * *

I stared at the yearbook photo from the graduating class of 1974 in shock, at the linked hands between Steven Carter and my mom, Nancy Parker, née Green. I tried to swallow against my dry throat as I moved my trembling hands to the black and white photo of Nancy Green and Steven Carter sharing a smiling kiss in front of the camera.

They were high school sweethearts. They were voted 'Most likely to marry'.

With a sharp jab in my heart, I realized that they looked happy.

Mom had never mentioned Steven Carter. She had never spoken of that romance. All I'd ever heard of from my parents' friends and families while growing up, were of how meant for each other my dad and my mom had been. How they had fallen deeply in love - a fairytale 'love at first sight' kind of thing.

Why had mom never talked about Steven Carter?

I shivered.

 _The same man who coldly beat up Max._

The glimpse into Max's memory flashed through my mind and I closed the yearbook with a heavy thud.

So. What had happened? Why had they broken up? Even if I wanted to believe that my parents had only ever had eyes for each other, Steven Carter and mom _had_ looked very happy together. Was it because of Sgt. Carter's future occupation? Mom _had_ on occasion expressed a mild annoyance with the military. My mother had been a true pacifist, wanting everyone to solve their problems intellectually rather than with violence.

Max's broken and bloody face flashed before me. Obviously, Sgt. Carter hadn't shared my mother's beliefs.

"Hey, Liz," a very familiar voice said, the metallic legs of the chair next to me scraping against the floor as it was moved to accommodate Sean's tall lean body.

I glanced at him, before looking down at the yearbook in front of me, fully intending on ignoring him. I struggled not to let the coldness wrap around me at his proximity. I definitely didn't want it to show on my face.

"So you're not talking to me, are you?" Sean asked.

"Please, go away," I said, my eyes focused on the book in front of me as I turned another page, without actually seeing what was on the page.

"I feel like something went really wrong at that party," Sean said, obviously ignoring my plea for his removal.

I refrained from snorting at the ridiculousness of his guess. Of course something went wrong. He threatened Max - by indirectly hinting that he would do something to me. He followed me out into the garden in the middle of the night, taunting me, claiming he had found my phone when he really hadn't.

When I didn't reply, he continued, "I was just trying to help you. To find your phone. Someone had taken it out of your bag-"

 _Yeah, and it was probably you._

"-and then you were just gone. Why did you leave like that?" He abruptly laughed quietly, as though _I_ was being the ridiculous one in this scenario. "It was like you were running from me, or something."

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest and looked to my side at him. His eyes were large and crystal blue in the white library light. I could see how my actions could seem odd, having just disappeared on him that night. I couldn't quite explain it myself, having been hit with the acute need to get out of there; convinced that Sean was up to no good.

But I couldn't really tell him that.

He was still giving me the shivers.

"I really wanted to leave that party," I told him, instead. "Those people there were kinda…freaking me out."

He frowned, an amused incredulous look on his face. "They were? How?"

I shrugged, donning the fake role of an insecure teenager. "It's stupid."

"What, Lizzie?" Sean asked, his tone softening at my hesitant appearance, and I was tempted to correct him about using that nickname.

It's _Liz_ to you, mister.

"They were just so beautiful. I felt like a complete outsider."

"You shouldn't," he objected, his voice subdued as he leaned in closer. I stiffened, the nails of my fingers digging into the top of my thighs, the action hidden under the table surface.

"You're beautiful, Liz," Sean continued softly. "A lot more beautiful then the girls at that party."

"Thank you," I mumbled, embarrassed. I had to admit, it was actually rather nice of him to say that. But it still did nothing to calm my intuition.

 _He's dangerous._

Max's voice sifted through my head and I inhaled deeply.

"It was just a really bad night for me," I clarified and considered using the 'Grief card'.

Before I had to contemplate that decision further, Alex came around the corner, spotted me and shone up like a spotlight.

I breathed a mental sigh of relief. _Thank God for your impeccable timing, Whitman._

"Parker!" Alex erupted, giving Sean a quick glance before ignoring him completely.

I almost laughed at Alex's antics. Alex was not the most handsome or attractive guy. In fact, he was considered a bit nerdy, with his computer skills and his hobbies consisting of flexible arm movements in which he performed silly tricks in front of viewers with varying interest. But even though he really wasn't at the top of the High School Food Chain, he didn't let anyone boss him around and treated people the way they deserved to be treated.

Apparently, Sean Carter deserved to be treated as air.

Alex grabbed the chair on my other side, scooted really close to me and pulled the yearbook out of my hands. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Research," I answered, shooting Sean a glance that Alex followed.

 _We're not alone, Alex._

He looked up at Sean, his face serious. "Dude. Do you mind?" Alex looked at me for a second, "Or did I interrupt something?"

"No," I replied, pushing my desire to laugh back. "Sean was just leaving." I looked at Sean, who was watching me with dark, angry eyes. I suppressed a shiver of danger and suspected I was playing with fire when I added with carefree cheerfulness, "Weren't you, Sean?"

I felt more powerful, more secure, with Alex seated next to me.

"I'll find you later," Sean bit out, scraping his chair backwards and leaving his seat.

Alex and I watched him go, and when we were certain he was out of earshot, Alex put his arms around me and hugged me tightly.

I tensed in confusion. What was that about?

"That was weird," Alex mumbled against my ear and I started to relax in his familiar embrace.

"What? Sean?"

"Yeah." Alex pulled back, letting me go.

"I guess," I mumbled, pulling the yearbook back from Alex.

"According to Maria, he's kinda stalking you."

I rolled my eyes at Maria's dramatic choice of word, but I knew that she was right. Sean _was_ basically stalking me.

"It's partly my fault," I said, unintentionally excusing Sean's behavior.

"Oh?" Alex raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "How's that?"

"I was kinda leading him on."

Alex snorted and leaned back against the back of the chair. " _You_? Leading on a _boy_?"

I grimaced and nodded. Alex searched my face, his features slowly turning serious. "You're serious, aren't you?" He frowned with disgust. "Liz! Sean Carter?!"

I frowned. "I know."

" _Sean Carter_?" Alex repeated incredulously.

I sighed. "Come on, you don't have to make such a big deal out of it."

"I just thought your standards were higher than that."

"They were!" I defended myself. "I don't…" my voice turned into a mumble, "I have no idea what happened."

He raised two shocked dark eyebrows. "Something happened?"

Humiliation colored my tanned cheeks and I mumbled under my breath, "We went on a date."

"You what?" Alex practically screamed, earning about twenty annoyed ' _Shhh's'_ from surrounding library visitors.

"Calm down," I hissed, bending my head closer to his so that he could hear my whisper of, "We went to Joe's Diner and we…we…"

"Oh my God," Alex's eyes widened into large saucers. "Something else happened?"

"He kissed me," I said quickly, wanting to sink through the floor. I couldn't justify my actions with Sean. Couldn't even understand them. And to then have to admit them - and explain them - to my friends was embarrassing.

Alex just stared at me. That couldn't be good.

"Wait a minute," he said slowly. "Sean was your first kiss…?"

I rolled my eyes at him and bumped my shoulder into his. "No, silly. _You_ were."

He matched my eye roll. "That doesn't count." He caught my look of faked indignation and hurried to add, "Even though it was - of course - the best first kiss _ever_."

I laughed softly. "Whatever, hot shot."

"But seriously," he frowned. "What possessed you to become close and personal with Sean? Do you even know the guy?"

I shook my head slowly, guiltily. "Not really. Well, not until a couple of weeks ago."

"Hmm." Alex leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "And Max Evans?"

I froze at the sound of his name. "What about Max Evans?"

"Maria wouldn't stop talking about it. How you two are having serious sexual tension or something and that you just need to do the nasty and get it out of your systems."

Heat exploded across my face and I dropped my eyes. I couldn't even find words in the midst of the mortification I felt. I dearly loved Maria, but did she have to butt into everything personal?

"He's…" I trailed off, fiddling with the corner of the closed yearbook from 1974, seriously avoiding Alex's eyes.

"He's what?" Alex asked gently, coaxing me into speaking my mind.

"He's…" How should I put this? "He's a friend." I glanced up at Alex, noted the support on his face and felt more at ease to continue. "He's kinda been helping me out after my mom died."

"That's nice of him," Alex mumbled, turning introspective, and I wondered if he was hurt by the fact that I had turned to someone I didn't even know for support and comfort, instead of himself - someone I had known for a very very long time.

"He just showed up," I continued. Wanting to explain myself. "I didn't even know him; never figured him for the caring type, you know."

Alex grimaced with understanding, seemingly sharing my confusion about my relationship with Max. "More the arrogant, narcissistic type."

I swallowed back the brief shot of defensive anger I felt at his remark. He didn't know Max like I did. No one did. Just a couple of weeks ago, I would be right with Alex on this one.

"Right," I replied, my voice unconvincing.

Alex scrubbed along his right eyebrow. "Sooo… You have _two_ boys after you, right now?"

I gave him a sheepish 'Figure that' smile.

"Huh." Alex didn't seemed too surprised, despite me having been single my whole life, barely showing any interest in the opposite sex. Instead he hitched his chin in the direction of the pile of yearbooks in front of me. "Does your sudden eligible bachelorette status have anything to do with your interest in the public records and your need to read through 40-year-old books?"

I hesitated for a moment, scanned our surroundings to make sure that we were out of earshot from any other library guest, before I leaned in, lowering my voice, "I don't think my mom's death was an accident."

Alex paled, his features going slack, his mouth falling open and his pupils dilating. He didn't say a word and I felt my heartbeat escalate with apprehension. His reaction was more intense than I had anticipated.

I found myself whispering, "You okay?"

He blinked to life, opened and closed his mouth twice, before, "Why…how-" he cleared his throat, "What makes you think that? You think she was _murdered_?"

I took a deep breath. It felt weird to actually finally talk about this. I had been having so many discussions and theories in my head lately; I had almost gotten used to being on my own in this.

"Right before she died, she had been very tired, looking really sick."

He frowned. "What was wrong with her?"

I shook my head. "We never found out. She promised to go to the doctor if things got worse, but she…she never made it there."

I pressed back the sob, hurrying to continue. "There have been some really weird things happening lately; things I haven't told anyone about. Things that have made me consider that the fire might've just been a cover-up. To hide my mom's disease, or whatever she was affected by."

Alex's eyes widened and he whispered, "This all sounds a bit-"

"Odd?" I suggested, before nodding grimly. "Tell me about it."

"And you think that Sean is somehow involved?" Alex asked.

I froze. "What makes you say that?" I hadn't mentioned Sean in this context at all. Not even alluded to it a little bit.

Alex hesitated, making me grow wary of his reaction. He laughed nervously and shrugged. "Nothing. I just… He started hanging around you about the same time that your mom died, right?"

"Yeah," I said slowly, looking closely at Alex.

"But he's just a kid," Alex said, and I could see the strain on his face as he struggled to act nonchalant.

"Yeah," I said again, scrutinizing my friend. "You're not saying that you think he was in any way involved in my mom's death?"

Alex flickered his eyes away from mine and shrugged again. "Not exactly. Just… Well, I just figured since you mentioned both Max and Sean in about the same context as your mom's death…"

A chill ran down my spine and I shifted back from the friend I would trust my life to. I had lost my temptation to share my theories with him.

And I couldn't even really explain why.

Alex looked up at me and smiled softly. "What makes you think that she was murdered? If she actually had symptoms of something before the fire; maybe she fell asleep without turning the stove off or left the iron-"

I shook my head, diverting my eyes to the yearbook, as I interrupted him, "Forget about it. It's stupid. I guess… I guess I just don't want it to be true. I want some other explanation to why she's dead, you know."

I felt his eyes burn into the side of my face as I started collecting the yearbooks.

"Did you find the answers you wanted?" Alex asked and I looked at him, seeing him hinting towards the books as I rose to my feet.

"Nearly," I mumbled, hugging the books to my chest. "Sorry, Al. I have to go. My dad is going to worry."

Alex looked at me sympathetically, and an inexplicable feeling of betrayal rushed through me. "Of course. Take care, Lizzie."

"See you around," I said and left him at the table to return the books before rushing home.

* * *

I quickly shut the door to my room behind me, speedily pulling out my laptop from my backpack and opening the lid. The computer screen sprung to life at my last opened window; the public records.

I felt my pulse beat all the way out to my fingers as I typed in 'Alexander Whitman'.

My anxiety levels escalated as I looked up Alex's parents and next his grandparents.

All the air sucked from my lungs as I stared at the information being displayed beneath Alex's maternal grandmother's civil status; _Relocated to Roswell, New Mexico, in 1949_.

My breathing was harsh in my ears as I stared at that reoccurring year.

 _1949_

And it all, suddenly, made sense.

My parents had owned an alien-themed restaurant for most of my life.

I had served alien fanatics breakfasts and curious tourists lunch for the past nine years.

I had, out of general boredom, tricked several of the customers into believing that I myself had been exposed to alien activity. That I had once witnessed what could only be explained as a UFO in the night sky, that the radio would sometimes change channels on its own and that I had experienced the inexplicable concept of missing time.

Against that background, the year of 1947 was forever imprinted into my mind. 1947 was the year of the alleged alien crash in Roswell; the incident that had put Roswell on the map. That had made this small desert town attract tourists like honey attracted bees.

Was it a coincidence that only two years later, the ancestors to the majority of the present inhabitants of Roswell, moved to Roswell?

Was it a coincidence that the offspring to one of those 'immigrants' could heal with the touch of a hand?

The laptop shook in my trembling lap, but I didn't notice. Panic was seizing me from within, spreading out to every crevice of my body.

My hands were shaking badly as I saw Max's before my inner eye, remembered the feel of his large hands fan across my body and his reluctance to admit to the world that he had this magical gift.

Aliens.

I bit my lower lip until I drew blood.

Aliens. They were aliens.

Alex's smiling, goofy, face sprung up in my mind and deep betrayal made the first tears crawl out of my eyes.

They were all aliens.


	22. TWENTY-TWO

**TWENTY-TWO**

"Lizzie? Lizzie?" The sentence continued from next door, but I couldn't make the rest of the sentence out, only the inflection that meant that she had asked me a question.

Being in my room felt like the most natural thing in the world. But as I rose from my reading position on the bed, an ominous feeling tightly gripped around my heart. I froze and looked around my room. I scanned my bookshelves with my collection of classic novels, took in the collection of photos of Alex, Maria and I attached to the mirror above the dresser. My eyes moved past the armchair where I used to curl up and read - more so when I had been younger - and brushed over the queen-sized bed.

I loved this room. I really did.

I took a deep breath in attempt to break apart the heavy lump in my chest and pulled the door, that was already ajar, opened.

In the blink of an eye, I had transported myself to the living room and found myself standing behind my mom.

I froze. She was ironing. But there was a burning smell surrounding her and the spot where the iron repeatedly moved over my dad's blue shirt had turned black.

"Mom, the shir-" I started, but my mom turned around with such a glorious and bright smile that the warning died on my lips.

Mommy.

I felt like crying as she looked at me lovingly. "There you are. Could you bring me the next load of clothing from the dryer?"

I forced to look away from her blissful expression, to the smoke that was coming from the iron. She had just left it there; the heat of the iron unrestricted burning into the material of the fabric.

"Mom!" I cried, the fear rushing the word out.

She followed my gaze to the iron just as yellow flames sprouted from the blackened shirt. With a surprised yelp, she took a step back.

Scared to death, I grabbed her arm while my eyes were fixed on the small fire. "Mom, get away from there."

But I couldn't move her from the spot. Instead my mom looked at the iron and whispered, "No. I'm not done yet. I'm not done."

I tugged on her arm, yelling desperately, "It doesn't matter, Mommy. We need to put it out."

My mom failed to acknowledge me. She turned her head towards the back of the room, towards the door leading downstairs, but I couldn't see what she saw as she repeated - like she was talking to someone standing there - "I'm not done. I'm not done."

My heart was racing as I watched the flames catch a hold of my mom's sleeve and I screamed myself into wakefulness.

"Mommy," I whimpered, tears tumbling down my cheeks with abandon, as I met the darkness of the small room in the rented apartment.

This was not my room. My room was gone. Burnt to ashes.

And Mom was dead.

The hole in my chest - where my intact heart used to be - was aching terribly, making me move into a fetal position in the bed in a desperate attempt to control the sobs that were turning more noisy and violent by the second. I curled my arms tightly around my middle, rocking my upper body back and forth, hoping that the gentle movement would bring me some comfort.

I wanted the pain to stop. I felt it explode out through my arms, through my fingers, down my legs, and I tightened my grip around my middle, burrowing my arms into my waist. Consequently, I pressed my arms further into that poorly healed wound, coaxing the physical pain forward.

As the sobs threatened to shatter me, and my head filled with memories of my mom, I felt him behind my back. My sobbing froze in startled surprise and my rocking stilled in frightened anticipation as his arms curled around my middle, brushing down along my own arms before I felt his fingers ease my arms away from my waist only to free up my hands so that they could be grasped by his.

The tears were still wet on my cheeks as I looked down at my waist, expecting to see his arms wrapped around me, his fingers interlocked with mine. But there was nothing there. Nothing except for my own lonely hands.

My hands had, however, been released from their frantic hold around my waist and my arms were being held slightly in front of my body (with no effort on my part), as though leaving room for someone else's.

But even though my eyes were trying to tell me differently, I felt him so clearly there, holding me. I imagined feeling the heat from his body soak into mine as his front pressed up against my back. I imagined his breath against my cheek as he tucked his chin into the curve on the side of my neck, and his five o'clock stubble prickled against my cheek as he pressed the side of his face against mine in something of a hug.

My eyes drifted closed as he pulled me even closer, the insides of his knees touching the outside of mine, his thighs aligned with mine. With my eyes closed it was much easier to perceive him as being there.

I decided to let it go. Decided to refrain from analyzing why I could feel Max Evans' warm body wrapped consolingly around mine. Instead, I figured I would accept what my crazed and traumatized mind was trying to do: making a refuge from my grief.

Even if it seemed to be in the shape of Max Evans.

As I relaxed against his (imagined?) body, the tears flowed freely again, but the sobs were not as sharp, not as panicked. I was sinking into an increasingly warming feeling of comfort, with the softly swaying motion wherein he was moving our wrapped up bodies, as he whispered against me ear - with breaking anguish, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

My eyes snapped open and, just as I was struck with the sharpest comprehension that Max Evans had not just been a figment of my imagination, his invisible presence disappeared and I was alone again.

Alone in a cold, dark room.

* * *

I had thought it through. Had turned it around in my head and looked at it from all directions.

I must have gone through every emotion known to man. Fear, panic, stress, concern, regret, denial, sadness, disappointment. And so on.

And I had decided that my conclusion must be false. Aliens? As in visitors from outer space? As in benevolent cute creatures like E.T. or gross-looking critters with disproportional heads who impregnated you with their offspring only to have them rip you apart as they were born?

I laughed softly to myself - the laughter a bit too much on the nervous side to be humorous - as I parked the car down the street from the Evans' residence.

Max Evans? Alien? He was waaaay too pretty to be one.

I just had to face the music; I had a knack for coming up with conspiracy theories. Vampires… Aliens…

I smiled to myself as I got out of the car and locked it. _What's next, Parker? Werewolves? Elves? Incubi?_

A chill of nervousness tightly bound with fear-stricken adrenaline plowed through me as I looked towards the impressive mansion, sobering me.

 _Come on, Parker. Who are you kidding?_ I tightened my fists along the sides of my body. _There's something terribly wrong going on here and extraterrestrials is the first really good answer to all of your questions._

But before I had decided to completely lose my shit, come up with some far-fetched explanation for my dad as to why we had to leave New Mexico, preferably the country, go into hiding, and change our identities, I wanted to offer Max the chance to explain. The guy still hadn't answered my questions; hadn't agreed to talk about all the weird things that had happened.

Between claiming that I had no right to answers and straight-out avoiding me, Max had not been making too much effort to throw the suspicion off himself so far.

I bit my bottom lip hard, unconsciously pinching the raw skin on the outer border of my wound through my shirt to let the pain sharpen my senses, and guided my steps towards the house.

He had not been to school since he told me to stay away from him. Since he told me that he was _dangerous_. The same thing he had told me about Sean.

The difference was clear as a day though: Sean fueled me with a primal need for flight while Max's presence alluringly beckoned me closer.

Of course, to complicate things further, my mind seemed intent on imagining Max in my bedroom, comforting me through my nightmares and my occasional bouts of physical pain. As if he was my personal nurse.

A very hot nurse.

I flushed at the forbidden thought.

Max was becoming more and more prevalent in my daily thoughts. Not just as a mystery to solve, but as a warm, enticing presence. I caught myself thinking of his hands, of the sensual curve of his upper lip, of his golden eyes, and grew several degrees warmer as I imagined the body beneath his clothes. From his proximity these last couple of weeks, his body had become very familiar to me and I could almost, by memory, paint out what the contours through his clothes would look like without clothes.

Gone were the days when I could deny my attraction to him. He twisted my thoughts, avoided me, winked at me one second and brushed me off the next. He was controlling and his passionate anger was quickly ignited, but those qualities seemed to stem from a need to protect. Whenever I thought about him (which, admittedly, was increasingly frequent), my heartbeat changed into a nervous flutter and my temperature rose by at least 500 degrees. Or, that's what it felt like.

Max Evans had put a force on me. Then left me hanging.

Maybe that's why I was here. I needed another excuse to seek out Max. To be honest, I really had enough information and bad hunches that Roswell had grown dangerous - at least for me. There was no need to mull it over with Max. But I wanted him to talk some sense into me. I wanted him to make the irrational rational and make me sane again.

I wanted the boy I was really really starting to like to tell me that he was special. That he could heal people. But I needed him to tell me that that was his only gift.

I didn't want any of the extra drama with his weird father, about him spending a ridiculously abnormal number of hours at the hospital as his dad's assistant (or whatever), about Max knowing something about my mom's condition prior to her death or why he could make himself - and me - 'invisible' (as he had called it).

Because that would mean that Max was right. I had to stay away from him. It was too dangerous.

Why - when there had been no one before - did I have to get my eyes on a guy with complications? MAJOR complications.

I slowed my steps as I got closer to Max's house. I needed to get onto the property unseen. My plan was to talk to Max. And Max only. No run-in with Max's scary family members (one in particular).

My palms were damp with my agitation and I wiped them off on the front of my jeans before ducking behind the bushes lining the outside of the massive garden.

As I traced the greenery, I tried to imagine Max's house from the inside - from the day when he had healed me on his bed (goosebumps - good goosebumps - spread across my arms at the memory of his smell surrounding me, of his hands brushing over my skin) - to figure out which window was his.

I stopped at the east side of the house, under the cover of a big bush, and counted the windows before settling on the second one from the front. I furrowed my brow in concentration. It had to be that one.

I quickly scanned my surroundings, determining that the coast was clear, before scurrying across the lawn and pressing up against the house. If circumstances had been different I would have found the whole thing laughable. I felt like some kind of secret spy, creeping along the edge of the house. Only, it was not even dark yet and I wasn't wearing any camouflaged clothing.

I searched the ground beneath my feet for something to throw at the window and spotted a flower bed to my left, where the soil had been covered with a thick layer of walnut-sized pebbles. Bending down, I picked out the smallest one I could find, took three steps away from the house, strained my neck as I looked up towards the window on the second floor, and psyched myself up for throwing the pebble at the window.

I never was particularly good at throwing stuff.

To my utter surprise, the pebble hit its target and made a clattering sound against the window pane. Fortunately, it didn't break. I had been a bit worried about that.

"Ms. Parker."

I jumped, a startled cry escaping me, and whipped my head towards the male voice which had calmly stated my name.

Dr. Philip Evans.


	23. TWENTY-THREE

**TWENTY-THREE**

I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights, shaking like a leaf, and a couple of other fitting idioms, as Max's father calmly looked at me with something akin to amusement in his eyes.

"Mr.- Dr. Evans," I stuttered and was gripped by the ridiculous temptation to curtsey and mumble apologies under my breath while moving backwards with my eyes fixed at the ground.

Like the perfect embarrassed servant girl from the 18th century.

But I fought the inclination and remained straight, swallowed back my mortification at getting caught, and forced myself to meet his dark brown eyes straight on.

"Are you trying to break my son's window?" Mr. Evans asked curiously.

My throat was dry. My hands were trembling. "It's stupid, really." I forced a nervous laughter across my dry lips. "I wanted to talk to Max about something, but I don't have his number. So-"

"We have a front door, Ms. Parker," Mr. Evans enlightened me, lifting one of his eyebrows in beguilement.

I bit my lower lip. "I didn't want to bother you." I let the two pebbles I held in my hand - which I had not had the chance to throw - drop to the ground, and I followed their descent with my eyes, avoiding Mr. Evans' eyes. "Really. If you could just let Max know that I'm-"

"Actually," Mr. Evans interrupted - again - and I looked up at him to notice him fold his arms across his chest and casually lean against the white washed wall of his impressive home. "We were just about to have dinner. We would love it if you would join us."

There was something of a warm smile on his face while I felt my own face pale and instant cold sweat dampen my palms. Dinner? With the Evans family?

Eh. I would rather eat cigarette buts and roll my body over broken glass.

"That's very kind of you, Dr. Evans," I responded politely. My face felt tight and clammy. "But I've already eaten."

"Please," Mr. Evans said, his face softening further. "We've come to understand that you are now a rather big part of Max's life-"

I frowned. _I am?_

"-and both the missus and I would really like to get to know you better."

Well, if you put it that way.

No. No way in hell.

I shook my head, my polite smile wobbling. "Really. Thank you. But I'll catch up with Max at school. It was nothing urgent."

"Philip?"

I froze as Mrs. Evans appeared around the corner, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw me.

Great. I guess my 'sneaking around'-career was officially deemed extremely brief and unsuccessful.

"Liz?" She frowned before her face lit up with a beautiful and welcoming smile. "Liz Parker?"

I felt stupid. The initial fear about standing face to face - on my own - with Mr. Evans was quickly evaporating. Mr. Evans seemed to be in a good mood today, and Mrs. Evans just seemed very warm and maternal. Something my tired heart craved right now, in the wake of my mother's death.

"Yeah," I replied sheepishly.

"What are you doing here?" Mrs. Evans asked, coming to stand next to her husband.

"Um-"

"She wanted to speak to Max," Mr. Evans replied easily, smiling at his wife.

"Oh," a shadow briefly fell over Mrs. Evans' face before she smiled.

I frowned. What was that about?

"That's nice of you to come over," Mrs. Evans continued. She indicated towards the front door. "Won't you come inside? We were just about to have dinner and there's plenty of food to go around."

"I already tried that," Mr. Evans said good-naturedly and their neighborly behavior had me cringing with danger.

I felt like I was part of a replica of 'The Truman Show', with the cheery smiles and the overly fake and polite conversation. Of course, Mrs. Evans had been nothing but polite to me during our prior interactions, but Mr. Evans was a totally different matter.

"Apparently, she is not hungry," Mr. Evans added, his eyes darkening as he looked back at me, and a shiver raced down my spine.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Evans said, brushing the argument away with big waving hand movements before stepping up to me (I tensed) and placing her arm around my shoulders. "When was the last time you had a home cooked meal, honey?" Her tone turned softer as my body stiffened at her close proximity. "Considering what you've been through, you poor thing."

The tears built quickly and uninhibited in my eyes and I swallowed with panic.

 _Don't cry. Don't cry._

I felt her concerned eyes on my profile and she gave my shoulder a squeeze before guiding us towards the front of the house. "That's what I thought. Come on. Let's get you something to eat."

It felt surreal to be walking between Max's parents to the front door of his house, his mother's arm wrapped comfortably around my shoulders, in some way shielding and protecting me against her own husband.

"Look who we found!" Mrs. Evans announced as we walked through the door and my eyes fell on a stunned Isabel, who was descending the stairs. She momentarily froze, her hand on the railing, before an uncertain smile bloomed on her perfect lips.

"Liz?" she walked up to me and I stiffened as she stepped straight into my personal space, her mother making room for her by taking a step back and releasing her hold on my shoulders, and Isabel kissed both my cheeks in greeting.

With the pecking of cheeks, I had now entered the French version of 'The Truman Show'.

Isabel pulled back, intrigued curiosity on her beautiful face. "What are you doing here?"

"I-" I had to clear my throat, my vocal cords too stunned to function, "I wanted to talk to Max about something."

Isabel smiled in understanding. "Oh. Of course."

"And we figured that we would invite Liz to dinner," Mrs. Evans clarified behind me before closing the distance between herself and the bottom of the stairs. Grabbing the railing, she leaned forward, angling her face upwards, and called out, "Max! Dinner's ready!"

My heart beat tripped at the anticipation of his arrival. I tried to tell myself that I was just relieved that he would be joining us - because his presence made me feel safe - but I knew deep down that there were more feelings involved than mere anticipated protection.

"Helena, we have a guest," Mrs. Evans said to a dark-haired petite girl - a couple of years older than me. "Set the table for one more person."

The girl curtsied (she actually curtsied!) and nodded, "Yes, Ma'am."

I jumped as I felt someone take my hand. I looked into Isabel's apologetic eyes as she tugged on my hand. "Your seat is over here."

If this was a dream, I really wanted to wake up now. This family was making me really uncomfortable.

"How are you doing, Liz?" Isabel asked with deep, concerned eyes as she led me to a seat. For a second I thought she was referring to my injuries; the burns that Max had healed and no one but Max and I knew about.

But then I realized that she meant my mother. She was wondering how I was dealing with the loss of my mother.

I managed a semi-grateful smile for her concern as I sank into the seat, even though I really didn't want to talk about what had happened. "Better. Thanks."

Isabel's nod of understanding was interrupted by her snapping her eyes up to something behind me, a brief second of darkness and worry across her face, before her composure returned.

I followed her line of vision, turning my head over my shoulder, and couldn't stop the gasp that fell from my lips.

It was Max. Coming down the stairs. Sporting a black eye with a cut across his bottom lip, and a very ginger walk.

I shot up from the beautifully cut mahogany chair and took an instinctive step towards him. That's when he saw me, his careful steps on the stairs halting. The horror on his face arrested my movement.

Pain cut through my heart. He was in pain. Why was he hurt?

Again?

As Max tried to reign in his shock at seeing me in his house - with his family - I whipped accusing eyes towards Max's father. Whatever had happened, I was certain that _he_ was somehow involved.

I trembled as I found his eyes already trained on me, a silent challenge in those dark brown eyes, and I paled as the truth hit me.

This was a warning. This is why Mr. Evans had invited me inside, which went against all of his previous notions towards getting Max and I to not see each other.

Mr. Evans wanted me to see this. He _wanted_ me to see that Max was hurt.

My breath was stuck in my throat as I tried to control the tears of anger and fear from flooding my eyes.

 _What kind of monster are you?_

I was almost certain that he could read the unspoken question in my eyes, because he inclined his head slightly to the side and gave me a polite nod in acknowledgement.

Anger was building as I looked back at Max. His eyes were trained on me as he reached the bottom landing of the stairs.

"We have a guest, Max," Mrs. Evans said brightly, as though immune to the tension in the room.

Max grimaced with pain as he attempted to straighten some. I took a half-step towards him, but stopped myself. I felt Mr. Evans' eyes on me, analyzing my every move.

"Yes, I can see that," Max practically grunted as he seemed to have to use a lot of energy to get his feet moving.

I turned my head in Isabel's direction, who was standing rigidly next to me, without removing my eyes from Max's face. Under my breath, I bit out, "What happened?"

"He got into a fight," Isabel answered without missing a beat. But her voice was weak and unconvincing.

 _Really? Again?_

I clenched my fists along the sides of my body. Why were they using Max as a punching bag? And why hadn't he healed himself? He should be able to heal himself, right? He had, after all, been without burns the days after the fire. So he must have healed himself.

I flickered my eyes towards Mr. Evans - who was still watching me speculatively - and wondered if he also had the ability to heal. And if so; why hadn't _he_ healed his son?

Instead, they were all standing around watching Max as he, with barely disguised effort, tried to cross the floor to the table. As though him being hurt was nothing out of the ordinary.

My anger at the lack of humanity in this room was threatening to make me explode. Ignoring the looks of his family, I walked straight up to Max.

His eyes widened as I paused in front of him, his warm, hurting eyes (my tears were threatening to fall at his displayed vulnerability) searched my face.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, low enough to be meant only for my ears. There was wonder in his voice, like he could not quite believe that I was standing in front of him.

"Another unprovoked attack?" I bit out sarcastically, referring to his precedent explanation as to who had hurt him the last time.

I wasn't angry with _him_. I was angry with this whole situation. With the unfairness of whatever the hell was happening to Max.

And for some reason, despite my annoyed question, he seemed to understand this as he gave me a half-hearted smirk. "Something like that."

I swallowed, before moving to his side, ducking my head under his elbow, grabbing his hand to drape his arm across my shoulder while aligning the side of my body with his.

"You don't have to-" he started, but fell silent as I glared at him angrily.

 _You're in pain, Evans. Let me help you._

"Thank you," he mumbled reluctantly under his breath as I guided him to the table. His body was like a furnace next to mine and I was overcome with a desperate desire to wrap myself inside the confines of his whole body and hug him tightly.

But we were not alone.

Their eyes were following our movement to the table silently. My mind flashed to the night of the latest party I had attended. Of the beautiful silent people with their penetrating and eerie stares.

I helped Max sit down and tried to let his faint groans of pain float past me unnoticed. But I noticed and it made me seek out Mr. Evans indifferent face repeatedly.

"Such a pleasure to have you here," Mrs. Evans said, a tinge of nervousness betraying her cheerfulness, as she clapped her hands together and ordered everyone to take a seat.

The dinner proceeded surprisingly uneventfully. Max was seated next to me and I was highly in tune with his body heat and the way his eyes kept traveling to my face - when he thought I wasn't noticing. The conversation was polite with even a few funny lines from Isabel (who knew that she could be funny?) which eased up on the tension.

To my relief, the family left the subject of the death of my mom more or less alone. Mrs. Evans offered her condolences at one point, but other than that it was the regular 'What are your plans after finishing High School?' and 'Which colleges are you applying to?' type of questions.

Surprisingly, dinner was not nearly as dreadful as I had anticipated. And the food was delicious.

"Max, Liz," Mr. Evans announced as everyone had scraped their plates clean, standing from his chair and looking across the table to where I was seated next to his son. "Would you please join me in my study?"

And just like that, the small piece of comfort I had built up in the company of these people was squashed. I glanced at Max, saw him blanch, and felt my own body grow cold.

Judging from Max's reaction, this was not good.

"Sure, Dad," Max replied and painfully got to his feet.

I fumbled with my hands in the air, wanting to help him, but he brushed them off. I put the serviette, which I'd kept across my lap, onto the table (yep, fancy people had serviettes around even during casual dinners), looked briefly at Mrs. Evans with a "Thank you so much for dinner," and missed her warm smile as my eyes immediately returned to Max's uneasy rise from the table.

"My pleasure, honey," Mrs. Evans replied and I stood up next to Max.

As he slightly bent at the waist, grabbing onto the table for support ( _what the hell had happened to him?!_ ) I grabbed his hand. He resisted me at first, trying to pull his hand away, but I gave him a firm warning look and squeezed his hand tighter.

Holding his hand was not only for his benefit. I needed the comfort it brought if I was going to 'join Mr. Evans in his study'.

"We'll be right back," Mr. Evans promised with a smile directed towards the remaining dining members, before he lead the way to the back of the large dining room, turned right around a corner and walked down a long corridor.

I clenched my hand with Max's and tried to focus on breathing. My nerves were wreaking havoc on my emotional control.

I felt Max's eyes frequently stray to my face and could hear his laborious breaths with every step, but I forced my eyes to look forward. To keep my eyes on the enemy: Mr. Evans.

He stopped at a dark wooden door, swung it open and stepped to the side while gesturing us inside.

"Please," he smiled at me and I almost stumbled on the threshold, which had unexpectedly appeared out of the floor.

Max's body brushed against mine as he silently buffered my stumble and there was a silent click as the door closed behind us.

We were alone.

With Mr. Evans.

"So, Ms. Parker." Mr. Evans looked at me intently and I fought the impulse to hide behind Max. Broken Max. "How much, exactly, has Max told you?"

Max went stiff beside me and my courage evaporated.

"About what?" I asked, surprised that I could actually get any words out around the big lump in my throat. But my voice was weak and wavering. Not the confident one of someone that was telling the truth.

Mr. Evans chuckled, but there was nothing funny about the look in his eyes. "About himself. About what he can do."

"Dad. She doesn't know anything. Leave her out of this."

Max's presence was strong behind my back. He demanded space and authority, even when he was pushed into a corner weakened by encompassing physical damages.

"Lying is what got you into this mess, son," Mr. Evans said with a pointed look at Max.

Was he referring to me being here? To Max being injured? What mess?

"He hasn't, for starters-" I said, my voice gaining strength as anger crept back into me, "-told me why he keeps on getting hurt. Is it you? Are you hurting him? Or is it Sean's father, the Sergeant?"

Mr. Evans' facial expression was bemused up until the point when I mentioned Sean Carter's father. His eyes narrowed with danger and in two rapid steps he had closed the distance between us, grabbing me by my upper arms.

"Ow," I cried out in surprise and startled fear.

Max reacted by grabbing a hold of one of his father's arms and hissing out in warning, "Let her go."

"How does she know about the sergeant?" Mr. Evans snapped, his hold on my arms tightening painfully, as he stared at his offspring.

"You're hurting me," I gasped, imagining bruises forming already.

"I don't know," Max replied, his hand still around his father's bicep, pulling, but not helping much in his weakened state. His eyes kept flickering worriedly to my face. "She came up with that all on her own."

"Liar," Mr. Evans accused his son and abruptly let go of me.

I inhaled sharply and took a quick step backwards, my back slamming into a large picture frame hanging on the wall behind me.

Max turned to look at me, asking softly, "You okay?"

I nodded mutely, rubbing the sore spots on my upper arms. I should report that guy. I really should.

Mr. Evans tiredly shook his head. "Have I taught you nothing? Along comes a beautiful girl and you start thinking with your dick."

I swallowed, unintentionally blushing at Mr. Evans' choice of words. Max was as tense as a violin string as he bit out, "She saw me heal Isabel, okay?"

Wait. What? I saw what?

"No, no, I didn't-" I started but Mr. Evans interrupted me with an eye roll, still in conversation with Max. The eye-roll almost looked comical on his face. Completely misplaced.

"That's old news. I got as much from Sarge."

 _The Sergeant._

"What I would like to know is why you haven't eliminated the problem? Even after Sarge's _recommendation_ …"

"I did," Max objected sullenly.

It felt like I was taking part in a regular father-to-teenager reprimanding, but my gut was telling me something very different. This was much too serious.

"She doesn't remember me healing Isabel," Max said and gestured in my direction. "Right, Liz?"

I shook my head in earnest. This was probably the only thing I would be able to be truthful about.

"But now that you've so subtly revealed to her that I have," Max pointed out and I watched Mr. Evans' face grow darker.

"Don't get smart with me," he warned and I searched out Max's hand again.

He let me take it, squeezing my fingers gently after weaving his fingers through mine.

"There's something else," Mr. Evans mused slowly, thoughtfully. "She _knows_ something. Why else do we keep finding her in these 'odd'-" he smiled as though he had uttered a joke, "- 'situations'?"

"I've already told you," Max said through clenched teeth. Impatient frustration in his voice. "I found her at her house, at the fire, and since then she's been having a lot of questions. Why I was there? Why I didn't help her mom." Max shot me an exasperated look. "She won't stop asking questions."

His hand squeezed tighter around mine. He was nervous. Even though I couldn't tell from the mask he was putting on towards his father, I could feel it in the dampness of his palm in mine.

I mustered up a strained smile. "Yeah. That's me. Nosy as hell."

Mr. Evans paused for a second and I felt a foreboding of darkness creep up my back. What would he do?

"I might as well take a look myself then," he stated emotionlessly.

I froze. _What?_

Mr. Evans took a step closer to me again and I automatically walked sideways, pressing myself into Max.

 _Aliens._ That's the word that was flying through my head. They might be _aliens_.

Sudden blinding fear was making my knees weak and I was fighting the adrenaline pumping harshly through my heart as Max pulled on our joined hands, angling me behind his body.

"I'll do it," Max objected, and there was a no nonsense sharpness to voice.

"I think you've done enough," Mr. Evans said slowly, taking a hold of my free arm and roughly pulling me out from behind Max.

"No," I whispered brokenly.

I was scared now. I didn't know what Mr. Evans meant by 'taking a look'. Millions of frantic thoughts were running through my head. Most of them of my dead mom and how she had been special and maybe that's why she was no longer with me. Thoughts of how dangerous these people probably were and that they wouldn't shy away from committing murder - if needed.

"Dad, please," Max said quickly, breathlessly, as he still held tightly onto my hand.

Mr. Evans shook his head in cool annoyance. "Just a look, Max. Relax."

"Give her a second, okay? Just a second."

Max's plea was quietly considered by Mr. Evans before he reluctantly nodded his assent. "Make it quick."

Max spun around, facing me. His eyes were frantic and scared, but they softened at the tears in my eyes. He released my hand and brought both of his hands up to cradle my face.

My eyes drifted closed at the contact and my closed eyelids pushed tears, which had been collecting in my eyes, down my cheeks.

"Don't let him," I whispered brokenly.

"He won't harm you," Max whispered back. "Okay?"

His question coaxed me to look up at him and there was a small encouraging smile on his cut lip as he added, "Trust me."

"What will he do?" I asked thinly.

Max turned serious. "He's going to look through your mind. Your memory. And then he'll remove the ones that are connected to me - the atypical memories concerning me."

No. No. I shook my head. I didn't want him to remove them. He was going to make me forget? Everything that I've learnt? I would go back to thinking that mom's death had been an accident? That Sean Carter was harmless?

That Max Evans was an arrogant jock?

"Don't let him," I repeated.

The pad of his thumb repeatedly brushed against my cheek. "Thank you for these last couple of weeks."


	24. TWENTY-FOUR

**TWENTY-FOUR**

More tears were rolling down my face now. A waterfall of involuntary goodbyes.

He broke my heart as he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. My hands circled around his wrists, not wanting him to let go.

I couldn't forget him. Not now.

"Okay, that's enough," Mr. Evans said and added succinctly, "Maxwell, you can always rekindle things with her later. Just _without_ all the extra details."

"Sure," Max said tightly and took a step back, letting his hands fall away from my face.

I let my hands fall away from his wrists, closed my eyes, and stepped backwards until my back was molded with the wall.

I felt his presence loom over me as Mr. Evans came to stand in front of me.

"Ms. Parker. I need you to open your eyes."

Of course. He needed to look me in the eyes. I shivered. I didn't want anyone else to do that except for Max.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

With Mr. Evans, there was no warming-up. No slow fall into his eyes. I felt him in my head the second my eyes opened; the connection instantaneous.

This obviously wasn't Mr. Evans' first time.

It didn't hurt. Wasn't even unpleasant. I could just feel that he was in my mind. But there were no visions. I didn't access any memories from Mr. Evans' head. _Thank God._

But I could tell that the act took energy. Maybe more than Mr. Evans' himself had anticipated. He was growing increasingly bothered, his face showing a marked strain and sweat droplets running down his temples.

With a groan, he pushed backwards, releasing me.

"Dad?" Max asked worriedly, shooting me a quick glance before looking to his dad for guidance.

I still remembered. _I still remembered._

"You okay?" Max asked his father, who was running his hands through his hair.

Max wasn't looking at me. _He thinks I don't remember._

Mr. Evans looked at me, straightening, his face hardening for a second before he, "Pardon me for asking a personal question, Ms. Parker," his empty face changing eerily to one of the polite doctor. "Have you had sex with my son?"

I felt Max's shock reverberate through my system along with my own. At least, I _thought_ I could feel the shock in his body as clearly as it was written across his face as he whipped his head towards me.

Mortification and embarrassment quickly followed in the footsteps of the shock and I defensively wrapped my arms around my body.

"No, she hasn't," Max answered in my place, shock giving way to confusion. I noticed the redness to his face and how he no longer could look me in the eye.

"That _is_ a very personal question," I rasped. "And none of your business, I might add."

Max frowned at me, probably wondering why I was making it sound like we actually _had_ been intimate with each other. Well, we had. Not just in the way Mr. Evans' was implying.

I flushed at the memory of Max's hands running across my body intimately, removing my pain.

"Oh, Ms. Parker," Mr. Evans said with a chuckle. "You've always been a strong-willed spirit."

I flashed to Max's memory of him and his father visiting me in my bedroom, taking blood samples from me when I was a young girl.

"If you haven't had intimate relations with my son," Mr. Evans continued, amusement wiped cleaned from his face in the blink of an eye, "then he must have healed you."

My eyes immediately jumped to Max's face and Mr. Evans tsk-ed as my hasty reaction probably confirmed his suspicions.

"I presume you were burned in the fire?" Mr. Evans guessed simply, as though talking about the weather.

I nodded mutely, trying to gauge Max's face for a reaction. There was no reason to lie now, was there? But Max's face was closed off. He had taken a step back, physically distancing himself from his father and me.

This made me nervous.

"He formed a bond with you, Ms. Parker," Mr. Evans said.

 _A bond?_

"A very strong bond," Mr. Evans continued and looked over at Max. "And now only Max can access your mind."

My knees shook and I pressed myself harder up against the wall. The relief was immediate.

Only Max could access my mind.

"Which means," Mr. Evans looked back at me, "that only he can make you forget."

And just like that, the relief had evaporated. In a way, it was worse. Worse that it had to be Max that selected out 'unwanted' memories from my mind and removed them.

But apparently, he had already done so. Both his father and Max had insinuated that I had witnessed something (the healing of Isabel?) that I didn't remember.

I hadn't had time to reflect over what I felt about that, and I probably wouldn't even have to. Since everything would be gone in a couple of minutes.

"Max," Mr. Evans called, his eyes on my face. "Get to work, son."

I hated him. I really hated Mr. Evans. Didn't he care? Didn't he care that he was destroying something? Or maybe he was only concerned with keeping his secret. So much so that he didn't bother to even investigate if I would keep my mouth shut or not. He just assumed that I couldn't be trusted with a secret like that.

Be it aliens or whatever they were.

Max's steps were hesitant - emphasized further by his injuries - as he slowly approached me.

"Liz…" he started regretfully.

I bit my lips tightly together and raised my chin in defiance. I felt like I was being treated like a slave, like someone that didn't have a say about her own mind or body. They were just standing around and ordering what was supposed to happen with me. And it was hurting me beyond comprehension.

And I took it out on Max.

"Just get on with it, Max," I practically sneered.

"Liz, I-"

"No," I interrupted. I didn't want to hear. I was going to be robbed of that excuse or explanation or whatever he was planning to say, soon enough.

He looked nauseous as he swallowed his words and once again framed my face in his hands.

He appeared almost ashamed as he asked me to, "Look into my eyes and try not to blink."

I didn't say a word, biting my lower lip. His eyes flickered from my eyes to my mouth and my breath caught as his right thumb suddenly brushed over my lip. I stared at him, confused and to be honest, aroused, as he looked back up at me and locked our eyes together.

Slowly, comfortably, and warmly, I fell into his eyes.

 _I know you're a good actress, Liz. I need you to use those acting skills now._

I blinked. Was that Max's voice? Inside my head? But his lips hadn't moved.

 _That's not acting._ I could hear the admonishment in his objection. _He can clearly see your emotions on your face. You need to keep your face blank. Emotionless._

He was talking to me in my head!

 _Yes._ There was laughter in that one-word 'thought'. _I'm talking to you in your head._

How could he do that? Is that even possible?

 _With the bond it is._

I decided to address him directly. Why not? _You can hear me?_

 _Every confusing thought._ He was amused and I instantly blushed as - of course - my mind immediately wandered to the type of thoughts that shouldn't be heard by anyone but myself.

Max. The way his body felt underneath my fingers. The way I pictured him without clothes-

 _Yeah, yeah_. I could hear his laughter freely in my head now and the blush burned brightly on my cheeks. _I'm pretty sure that's not the way to keep your face blank._

How come I couldn't see anything in his head; hear anything else but the instructions?

 _Practice. A lot of practice._

His instant replies to my unspoken thoughts were unnerving. This would definitely take some getting used to.

He didn't comment on my reflection, instead getting straight to the matter at hand.

 _I'm not gonna make you forget._

Why not?

I don't want to.

Why not?

Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?

Yes. You.

There was a chuckle in my mind and I refrained from letting my answering smile show outwardly on my face.

 _But we have to fool my dad. It's not safe for you to know about these things._

I considered this. Max was basically inviting me into the alien club and-

 _Alien club?_

I froze at the horror in his mind.

Oops.

At the last second, I managed to control the expression on my face. Don't show any emotions. Don't show any emotions.

 _I've figured you out._

I felt his hands tighten around my face, his fingers digging into the softness of my heated cheeks. The response of his body was the answer I had anticipated. I had been right. They _were_ aliens.

 _So you just have to explain the details to me now._

You figured out that I was an alien and still you came here?

His eyes blinked, his pupils dilated in fear and confusion. It was probably a good thing that he had his back to his father. There was no way he could have hidden that expression.

As if hearing my thought (Duh. He _could_ ) Max relaxed his face, pulling down his mask.

 _I'll answer all of your questions. You just have to act confused and like you don't remember what you are doing here._

I swallowed. Okay. Shouldn't be too hard.

 _This is the performance of your life, Liz._

Okay.

Okay?

Yeah.

I felt his hands start to pull away and I screamed out in my head, _Wait!_ , probably a bit too loudly because Max cringed.

 _Sorry._

What is it, Liz?

His amusement had returned.

Yeah, yeah. The confused human girl was so amusing in her lack of knowledge concerning the finer points of telepathy.

I could feel his mental eye roll, before I directed my question at him, _Can you always read my thoughts?_

 _No._ His voice was reassuring, trusting, truthful. _Only when connected like this._

Good.

And then I got a mental image of my own lips, glistening with innocence, sensually curved as my bottom lip was slowly pulled between my teeth. Hot deep desire struck me and I gasped just as Max pulled back and removed his hands from my face.

The telepathic connection was broken.

I tried to collect myself, lust thrumming through me, and I knew from the grin on Max's face that he had deliberately sent me that glimpse into his mind just before cutting the connection.

I wasn't the only one with fantasies…

"Ms. Parker?" Mr. Evans asked as I blinked, and I was reminded to fall into the role of the confused ignorant human.

"What? What I'm a doing here?" I frowned, blinking, as I looked around the room, pretending to not recognize it.

"You needed my father's help, remember?" Max hinted, his face displaying the perfect mix of confusion and tentativeness.

"How are you feeling, Liz?" Mr. Evans asked, taking a step closer. There was an unfamiliar warmness to his manners, one I presumed he normally reserved for his patients.

Since I had never really experienced this side of Mr. Evans, one can only assume that he and I had gotten off on the wrong foot from the get go.

I put my hand to my forehead, letting my knees grow weak as I leaned heavily against the wall. "A bit dizzy."

"Here," Mr. Evans pulled out a chair and gestured towards it. "Take a seat."

"Thanks," I mumbled, doing my best to hide my surprise at his behavior. He was almost pleasant (!).

I walked carefully towards the chair, seeing Max reaching out for me in assistance as I passed him. But I batted his hands away weakly, noticed the hint of an amused smirk in the curve of his mouth, and sank heavily into the chair.

"What happened?" I mumbled, brushing errant tendrils of hair out of my face.

"You pointed out that you felt faint," Max replied, stepping closer to my position, but keeping his distance. "And then you fainted."

"Huh," I mumbled, incomprehensible surprise seasoning my complete ignorance.

"What can I help you with, Liz?" Mr. Evans asked, kneeling in front of me.

I fought the impulse to shy back from his presence and forced myself to relax.

As far as Mr. Evans knew, I wasn't supposed to know of his less charming manners any longer. In fact, I had supposedly barely met Mr. Evans. I now only knew what the rest of the population of Roswell knew. That in front of me was a well-respected, competent surgeon with an extremely good reputation.

I couldn't let my disgust and fear of him show.

"Um," I breathed hesitantly and the confusion on my face was real this time. Why was I here again? Maybe Max should have gone through his plans with me, a little bit more in detail…

"You have a burn wound on your stomach," Max stepped in, clarifying.

My whole body grew cold. My first instinct was to glare at Max, but I couldn't very well do that. I knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted that wound on my stomach healed (had wanted to from the second he found out that he had 'missed a spot') and since I wouldn't let him, this was his chance.

I felt his eyes burn into the back of my neck as I struggled to control the anger that was blotching my cheeks in red.

"Can I see?" Mr. Evans asked softly, rising his hands towards my abdomen in silent request.

I really really wanted to leave right then; push the chair backwards and aim for the door.

But I couldn't. In order to keep our secret, in order for me to be part of Max's secrets, I needed to do this.

I needed to allow Max's father to touch me.

I nodded mutely and grabbed the hem of my shirt. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max move around me, probably wanting to see for himself what it looked like.

Mr. Evans face was - as anticipated - devoid of emotions as I revealed the angry burn to my spectators. It had started to heal some, but my skin would never be the same in that area.

I made the mistake of glancing up at Max as my hands stopped just below my breasts, tightly holding onto the shirt.

Darkness (was that guilt?) was blackening his features, dilating his pupils, tightening his jaw and clenching his fists.

Why was he so affected by this? He had - obviously - seen much worse injuries to my body.

"Oh dear," Mr. Evans' quiet voice brought my attention back to the doctor, moving his hands towards my abdomen. Stopping just before making contact, he looked up at me and asked gently, "May I?"

Stunned by his sudden kindness, I nodded silently.

My whole body tensed in anticipation of his touch. But it was not as bad as I had feared. His hands were practiced in their movements of gentle prodding around the edges of the wound. The only element that really hurt was when he pressed rather firmly to the top of the wound, trying to see if any fluid had collected in the wound.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled as I flinched. "There's some inflammatory fluid, but that's normal during the healing process. It doesn't appear to be infected."

My relief was real as I asked, "That's good, right?"

He gave me a brief smile, before getting to his feet. "Yes. That's very good, Ms. Parker." He looked over at his son. "Max, could you get some acticoat, chlorhexidine, compresses, tape and bandage?"

Max's eyes briefly shifted to mine and I tried to not let it show that the thought of being left alone with Mr. Evans unnerved me. Max must've been satisfied with what he saw on my face, because he left the room - slowly and gingerly.

Mr. Evans returned curious eyes on me. "How did this happen, Liz?"

A second of panic shot through me as I considered if the fire was something Max would have made me forget in his mock memory erasing process. I quickly realized that he couldn't erase those memories. How would they then explain that I didn't know that my home had burnt down?

"In the fire. I was afraid for my mom, so I went too close to the house."

Mr. Evans' eyes turned sympathetic. "Yes. I heard about the fire. I'm truly sorry about your loss, Liz. Your mother was a wonderful person."

I dropped my eyes, uncomfortably twisting the shirt in my hands, and spoke under my breath, "Thank you."

 _How well had he known my mother?_

"You should have sought medical help sooner," Mr. Evans pointed out.

"I didn't think it was that bad," I noted, pouring honesty into my widened innocent eyes as I looked up at him.

"Well, I'm gonna take care of it," Mr. Evans assured me and patted me fatherly on the knee. My breath hitched. I hoped he didn't notice.

"Don't worry," he added with a smile, just as Max walked through the door, carrying various medical supplies.

To my surprise, Mr. Evans was very gentle in cleaning and covering my wound in bandage. As he had applied the first layer of bandage, there had been a soothing feeling to the constant dull pain. Had I not been healed previously by Max, I probably wouldn't have noticed the feeling. Or at least - I probably wouldn't have paid it much attention. But I was positive that Max was not the only one with the ability to heal, as his father obviously had applied some alien magic to my wound. Probably just enough to facilitate the healing, without it hastening the process in a suspicious way.

I was sent home with a box of pain killers and an extra set of dressings to be changed in three days.

I desperately hoped that Max and I had been successful in fooling Dr. Evans.


	25. TWENTY-FIVE

**TWENTY-FIVE**

"Baby, there's someone here to see you."

My mom was peering into my room through the door which had been left ajar. She seemed pale, an uncertain smile on her face.

I straightened and placed the book I had been reading next to me on the bed. "Who is it?"

"Dr. Evans, honey."

Dr. Evans? I frowned. I wasn't sick.

"And his son." Mom turned her head and looked at someone behind her, hidden behind the semi-closed door, before looking back at me, "And Sean."

Sean? As in Sean Carter? The quarterback?

"What do they want?" I asked, feeling nervous all of the sudden.

"We just want to talk to you," a deep voice said calmly and the owner of that voice towered up behind my mom as he put a hand above my mom's head to push the door open. He turned to my mom with a smile. "We'll take it from here, Nancy."

My mom looked incredibly pale. "Just don't-"

"Shhh…" Sean, who had just come up behind Dr. Evans, hushed with a smirk. Placing his hands on my mother's shoulders, he looked her intently in the eyes and said slowly, "Time for you to leave now."

"Yes," my mom whispered as though in a daze and blinked slowly. "Of course."

Dr. Evans clapped his hands together, attracting my attention with a start, and I felt the pulse throb against my temples as he smiled at me. "Liz. How are you?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

And what did you do to my mom?

There was movement behind the middle aged man and I saw Max Evans quietly move into the room, following his father. His eyes were downcast, his shoulders slumped, as he quietly appeared to be studying the carpet of my bedroom.

"It's time for your check-up," Dr. Evans said naturally and goosebumps of cold fear exploded across every inch of my skin.

"My check-up?" I mumbled. I didn't need a check-up.

I caught Sean staring at me, a smug smile growing larger and larger on his face. His eyes were piercing and ice blue.

"No need to worry," Dr. Evans assured me, the smile still plastered on his face.

"So what are _they_ doing here?" I looked pointedly at the two male adolescents who had entered my room. Even if I were to get a check-up, I would certainly not get one in front of my classmates.

"Educational purposes," Dr. Evans replied calmly.

My heart missed a beat and I hated that my voice trembled as I said, "I want you to leave. You have no right to be here."

Dr. Evans looked over at his blond apprentice and said simply, "Sean."

"Will do, sir," Sean replied with an easy smile.

Will do what?

Sean leisurely approached my bed, smiling like the Cheshire cat, and I scooted up against the head of the bed, the pages of the book I had been reading accidentally folding under the weight of my nervous body. That book would never look the same again.

"Jeez," Sean mumbled as he sank down on his knees in the softness of my mattress. "Always the same reaction."

My heart was pounding in my chest. I felt trapped. Like a wild animal having been forced into a corner with no way out. My eyes desperately flickered in Max's direction. He was the only one in here that was not eyeing me like I was his next meal.

But unfortunately, Max wasn't even looking at me. He seemed to want to get out of here just as badly as I did.

"Liz," Sean coaxed and, against my better judgement, I looked over at the quarterback and got entangled in his eyes.

I kept staring at him, seeing Dr. Evans move around my bed out of the corner of my eye and Max step away from the wall he had been leaning against and following behind his father.

But I couldn't move. Couldn't even move my eyes to see what they were doing as they disappeared out of my range of vision. All I saw was blue. Blue eyes reflecting smugness.

"She's getting more difficult," Sean mumbled and my throat was itching from not being able to swallow.

"We'll be quick," Dr. Evans said behind me.

"Or we could just knock her out," Sean mused, but his voice had become strained.

"No."

That was Max. A strong and authoritative one-worded objection.

Sean shrugged. "It would be much easier, man."

"I can't examine her if she's unconscious," Dr. Evans said lowly behind me.

"Right," Sean grumbled, the smug slowly fading from his face.

Someone was touching my left arm, skimming his fingers around my elbow and up to my shoulder, and my body reacted by creating goosebumps of aversion.

"No glow," Dr. Evans stated.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir," Sean whispered and through my drying eyes I could see a droplet of sweat travel down his forehead while his cheeks flustered with effort, "but could you hurry up? She's fighting me."

"This can't be rushed, Sean," Dr. Evans said impatiently. "It's your task to find a solution to your problem. That's why you're here. To learn."

"Why isn't Max doing anything?" Sean's voice was annoyed and my body struggled to react to the hand that was suddenly placed against my forehead. I felt a small tremble run through me, which gave me hope that my mind was regaining control over my body. I desperately hung onto that feeling, hoping that it would lead me out of my stagnant state.

"That is not his task," Dr. Evans answered, his voice distracted. "Don't insult your own intelligence." He sighed, his breath fanning out over my cheek and nausea built in my throat. "Now. I need her eyes."

If I'd been able to react, I probably would have rolled off the bed and run screaming out of the room. Considering that they seemed to be able to control my body and slow down my thinking, they probably wouldn't have any problems removing my eyes.

"Careful," Dr. Evans warned, just before Sean blinked, breath flowing into my lungs, before my head was ripped to the side by a rough touch to my chin and my eyes connected with the brown eyes of Dr. Evans.

I felt something flutter against my forehead, like some insect was trying to go through my skull. So, naturally, I pushed back.

I registered the complete surprise on Dr. Evans' face before I realized that I was free.

The scream came tumbling up my dry throat and as a result ended in a pitiful croak. "Noooo!"

Strong hands grabbed my arms as I struggled backwards, searching for my voice to scream for help. The back of my head collided with the wall with a loud thump, but the sound was drowned out by the angry cries from Sean and Dr. Evans as they fought to restrain my struggling body.

"Let her be!"

Max's voice cut through the commotion, but I didn't dare to listen to it, as the hands left my body on Max's command and I tried to organize my limbs enough to find a way off the bed, out of the corner into which they had pushed me.

"Well?" Dr. Evans drawled, sounding out of breath.

My curiosity made me grow momentarily still and look up. To see what was happening. To see who Dr. Evans was addressing.

My eyes were so dry from not blinking that my vision was blurry, reducing my ridiculous odds at escaping even further, but I could see his face through the blur.

"Hey," he said quietly, taking a cautious step towards me, treating me like the wild animal I felt like. He held his hands out in front of him and added in a gentle whisper, "It's okay."

"Stay away," I whispered back, the words scratching against my dry throat.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he pleaded and I thought I saw sadness in his eyes. Regret.

"Stay away," I repeated, whipping my head towards the door, trying to assess how to get out of here. But Sean was on my right side and Dr. Evans on my left. And in front of me was Max.

There was no way out.

I looked at Max, considered that he seemed like a reluctant participant from the start, but immediately questioned if this was some kind of 'Good Cop/Bad Cop'-routine and that he was only playing a part. I couldn't trust him, I couldn't-

"Oh, fuck this," Sean sighed and before I had time to react he had grabbed me and pressed my back into the mattress.

I heard Max's cry of protest in the background, but all I saw was Sean's eyes, one inch from mine, as I once again lost the right to my own will power. My arm was painfully extended and I felt something sharp prick the inside of my elbow.

Max's voice was sharp behind Sean, "Get off her!", but this time, no one paid him any attention.

"This has always been your weakness," Dr. Evans mumbled. "You care too much, son. She'll be fine. Can't you see that she's fine? She won't remember any of this."

"It doesn't matter. You don't have to treat her like that. I could have asked her, talked to her."

"We don't have all night," Sean said, a drop of saliva falling on my lips as he enunciated the 't' in 'night'. And my stomach wanted to turn inside out. But it couldn't.

"It will all be over soon," Dr. Evans mumbled vaguely.

I bolted upright, my heart hammering in my chest, my fingers cramping around the duvet.

"Another nightmare?"

If my breath hadn't already been halted in my throat, I would have screamed. Blind fear shot through me as I snapped my head towards the voice, my eyes landing on a still figure standing in the darkest corner of my room.

I gasped, instinctively pushing back up against the wall.

 _No! No more experiments! No more tests!_

But then he leaned forward, slowly bringing himself out of the darkness, and the soft white light of the moon fell on the side of his face, illuminating his familiar features.

"Oh my God," I sobbed, my feelings snapping and breaking all around me.

His presence from my dream was still too prevalent, too fresh in my mind. It had seemed so real. Too real. Making me wonder if it had been a memory. Another one of the type of visit that I had seen from Max's memory when he had healed me.

"Sorry," he grumbled, his solemn eyes large and dark in the night. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"What are you doing here?" My breath caught and stumbled on another sob.

 _God, I was a wreck._

Max reflected back how I must look. There was uncertainty in the way he held his body and insecure fear in the thinness of his lips.

He didn't move from his corner, though, standing tall and awkward in the shadows, his eyes bright in their search of my face. His inactivity ripped through me, laboring the sobs, worsening the trembles, and desolately, I wrapped my arms around my middle, pressing against the bandage applied by Mr. Evans.

"You wanted to talk," he whispered, his voice distant as he reminded me of the obvious.

Not just his voice was distant, _he_ was distant. I had grown accustomed to him frequently touching me, leaning in close, whispering suggestions into my ears… This was new. This was cold. Lonely.

"Yeah," I sniffled, brushing back my damp hair from my face.

I was momentarily distracted by my own appearance. I was only wearing a T-shirt, my whole body was covered in sweat, my eyes were probably red from crying and I really really needed to blow my nose.

And over in the corner of my bedroom was Max - tall, collected, dark and beautiful.

I shrunk back into myself, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

He watched my quietly, which brought my emotions to confusing levels, before he pushed off the wall on which he had been leaning and crossed the room, moving towards the door.

Panic seized me - out of nowhere - and my arm stretched out in the empty air.

"Don't leave," I pleaded tearfully, on the brink of emotional collapse.

He halted, paused for a second, before turning his head to look straight at me. Warmth brushed the lining of my heart and some part of me immediately relaxed. His arm closed the distance between our hands, his much larger hand squeezing my warm one gently, causing goosebumps to spread up my arm, and he gave me a crooked soft smile.

"I'll be right back."

I bit my bottom lip to prevent myself from crying even more than I already was and nodded my wordless understanding.

As soon as he exited the room, I rolled out of bed, quickly pulled out the drawer on my nightstand and found a box of Kleenex. I blew my nose, wiped my whole face dry of tears and sweat, and hurried back in bed so that Max wouldn't see my bare legs.

He was quiet as a mouse as he pushed the door opened just a minute later. I probably didn't have to worry that he might alert my dad to his unannounced visit, he was too quiet and fluid in his movements.

Like a professional burglar…

He had brought me a glass of water. I felt my fears at his distance immediately calm as he offered the cold glass to me. "Here. Drink."

"Thanks," I mumbled, taking the glass and rather greedily gulping the water down.

He was standing over me, his body about a feet from my bed, and I could hear every breath he took as I finished the tall glass of water.

"More?" he asked and to my relief there was humor in his eyes as I looked up at him.

I rolled my eyes. "No, I'm fine." _I had been thirsty, okay?_

He offered to take the glass away and I gave it to him, while licking the last droplets of water off my lips. His eyes were on my face, straying to my mouth, making me stop my movements. There was a stretch of time between us, before he took a deep breath, separated our gazes and turned to place the empty glass on the desk behind him.

"So," he mumbled, turning back again. He raked nervous hands through his hair and leaned back against the desk - putting space between us again. "What do you want to know?"

I supplied him with an incredulously raised eyebrow. What _didn't_ I want to know?

His lips twitched in a tempted smile, as he seemed to understand my unspoken question. "Right. Fire away, Ms. Parker."

Where should I start? I had so many questions. And looking at Max now, although he was obviously nervous and apprehensive, he seemed to mean it this time. He was actually going to answer my questions.

The most natural place to start, though, seemed to be, "Why is my mom dead?"


	26. TWENTY-SIX

**TWENTY-SIX**

He didn't move a muscle, his eyes not diverting from mine, as he slowly started, "There was a fir-"

I flushed with anger. He was really going to do that? After everything, "You're going to lie to me?"

He tensed, his jaw muscles contracting, and seemed to consider actually sticking to that lie, before he looked at me closely and said, "She died from exhaustion."

Exhaustion?

I blinked. "Exhaustion?" Was he kidding me?

A muscle next to his eye twitched and he sounded offended as he added, "It's a thing, you know."

"Not if you're not suffering from insomnia," I countered, pretty sure that my mom had slept during the nights.

But still, I couldn't completely abolish the idea that Max might be onto something. Mom _had_ been _incredibly exhausted_ those last couple of days. And come to think of it, she'd had sporadic periods of extreme fatigue in the past.

It still didn't explain anything, though.

"But very much so if someone is feeding off you." His voice was eerily calm and collected, his eyes scanning my face constantly, probably gauging my reaction.

Had he ever told an outsider, like me, anything like this? Would he get in trouble for telling me? A memory of Max gingerly walking the streets at night, after a run-in with Sgt. Carter, flashed through my mind and I shivered.

But maybe I had finally got him talking. I needed to know these things. I needed _answers_.

I would protect what he was telling me with my life, if it meant keeping him safe.

The thought surprised me, but Max interrupted my train of thought before I had a chance to mull it over further. I hadn't even had time to consider what he had just told me. It was too weird, too confusing, to even _start_ to think about.

"Feeding off your energy," Max clarified, insecurity in his eyes. My silence was probably worrying him.

"Like a vampire?" I gulped.

A small smile twitched in the corner of his mouth and he nodded. "Something like that."

"How?" I demanded. "Tell me everything."

He hesitated, his eyes ducking away, his body slumping forward as his shoe traced the edge of my carpet.

"Why my mom?" I prodded. "What was it about her? Why _her_ energy? Or was it just a coincidence? Her being at the wrong place at the wrong time?"

He looked up again, slowly licked his lips (I had to consciously tell myself to not stare), before straightening and running his hands through his hair. "There's a gene. A human gene. We've estimated that approximately 0.002% of the human population carry it. But we're still working on the statistics."

As he grew silent, I swallowed, and guessed, "And my mom had it?"

"It's a sex-linked gene-" Max started.

I frowned, interrupting, "So it's carried on either the Y- or the X-chromosome?"

He looked impressed for a second, before he seemed to remember that I had actually attended Advanced Placement in Biology. "Yeah. In this case, it's carried on the X-chromosome. We have been able to deduce that one of the alleles within the gene on the one X-chromosome undergoes X-inactivation, meaning that-"

My head was spinning. I might be smart. Smarter than most students attending Roswell High, but I wasn't particularly sharp in the middle of the night, after a traumatizing nightmare and seated across a beautiful boy - whom I had developed a romantic interest for and who might not be of this earth- wearing only a thin T-shirt.

I put my hands up. "Wait wait." His mouth froze in the middle of the sentence. "Sorry," I blinked. "You can go through that with me later. Right now I just need to know what all that means. In layman's terms, please."

I could tell that he wanted to smirk at me, but he railed it in at the last second, instead simply summing it up by, "It means that even though there is 0.002% of the human population carrying this gene, only females can express it. Of course, in the rare case that a male has two X-chromosomes plus a Y-chromosome-"

I put my hands up again to stop him from getting off track. "Okay, okay." I exhaled. "Man, first you tell me absolutely nothing and now you tell me every single detail. You _really_ need to find a middle ground."

He gave me a sheepish smile. "Sorry." He straightened. "So, fundamentally, your maternal grandmother expressed this gene. So did your mom." He looked straight into my eyes and finished quietly, "And so do you."

 _Special._

That's why we were special.

My voice barely carried as I whispered, "And what does this gene do?"

He looked at me for a long second, making me grow warmer in my meager clothing - hidden underneath the duvet - before he pushed off the desk and crossed the floor to my bedroom door.

I followed his movement with confused eyes. Where was he going now?

But instead of questioning it, I remained silent as I watched him quietly open the door, peer outside for about four quiet seconds, before shutting the door again.

I raised a questioning eyebrow as I understood what he was doing, and asked sarcastically, "All clear?"

He gave me a crooked smile as he looked back at me. "He's fast asleep."

So… "My dad is not…?"

Max, hesitantly, sank down on short end of my bed, putting as much distance between us as the bed would allow. "Not the least interesting to us, no."

"Huh," I breathed, hugging myself around the middle to fight off the sudden chill.

Aliens had an _interest_ in my mom and me. We had something they needed, something they exploited.

"What does the gene do?" I whispered, repeating my question.

"There's something else I need to explain first," Max said, fiddling with the end of my duvet.

"Okay," I whispered apprehensively.

Keeping his eyes away from me, Max brought me into his world, "Just as you've already figured out; we're not from Earth. We've barely been here for four generations."

I swallowed, not finding any words, not wanting to interrupt him.

"We don't really look like humans in our true form-"

I felt the blood drain from my face as all movies featuring aliens I had ever seen flashed through my head. Everything from frightening crawling monsters with five legs to children-sized gray creatures with large black eyes and no mouth.

He wouldn't look at me and I, for once, was glad. I wasn't sure how I would react if I saw his face right now.

 _What did Max Evans_ really _look like?_

"-or-," he continued, "my grandparents didn't."

"Your mom…" I breathed, staring at his profile.

He almost seemed…scared. Curling further in on himself as he was gradually angling his body away from mine.

"She's human," he explained, supporting what my research into the topic had already implied, before his eyes snapped up at me.

I stilled, captured in his gaze. Those eyes, where light normally would pull out flickers of gold, were dark and glistening. He looked the epitome of a scared little boy, not knowing if I was going to yell at him, walk away or accept him. His expression tugged on my heart strings, making me want to close the distance he had put between us and assure him that I didn't care if he was human or not.

But… I took a deep shuddering breath. To be honest, I _did_. The idea of him looking different, of me not even seeing the real Max Evans right now, scared me more than I wanted to admit. It was like sitting in front of a stranger.

"You're a mix," I stated, my voice much calmer than I felt. "Um…a hybrid."

He nodded, his eyes still on my face, barely blinking.

"So you're at least 50% human," I added, a sliver of hope in my voice.

His eyes darkened further and a tad of anger had crept into his voice as he asked bitterly, "You're wondering what I really look like, don't you?"

I restrained the involuntary shiver and after a moment of hesitation, I nodded slowly.

He remained motionless for another four long seconds before he dropped his head, breaking our eye contact, and whispered, "This is it. This is me."

A force of relief weaved through me, rocking me in my place. "You mean…?" My voice broke with hope and he looked up again with seriousness.

"Apparently the human phenotypes are stronger than my alien ones."

I closed my eyes, unconsciously breathing a "Thank God", before opening my eyes again and looking over at my extraterrestrial nightly visitor, who was watching me for my every reaction.

"But your dad…"

"He can change his appearance," Max filled in.

My eyes widened. This was crazy. This whole thing was crazy.

My voice was small as I asked, "How?"

Max shrugged with disinterest, "It's a simple manner of manipulating cells, tissues."

"'Simple'…" I mumbled, almost laughing. My body felt like it needed to laugh. To cry. To scream. Just something except this forced hushed talk. I needed to break the tension.

"Liz," he called softly, asking for me to look at him. As he got my attention, he asked, "You okay?"

"Just a bit-," I smiled ruefully, "-overwhelmed."

"Yeah," he grimaced.

"You're expecting me to run out the door any second, aren't you?" I guessed.

He nodded silently, that tentative lope-sided grin back on his face.

My fingers itched to brush the hair off his forehead.

I forced the thought back.

 _Focus, Parker!_

"So this energy thing…" I prompted, referring back to why they would need to suck my mom dry of her energy. A wave of nausea moved through me at the thought.

"I'll get to that," Max whispered and diverted his eyes again. This time to picking at his nails. "Even though we - the hybrid descendants - look human - we have retained all of the mental alien abilities. Meaning that nothing is out of our mind's ability to control. If you practice, there's no limit to what you can do. Of course, there are certain abilities which are unique to certain individuals. We divide up our society based on those diverging abilities."

"Such as…?" I breathed, scooting closer to him.

He briefly glanced at my knee, hidden under the duvet, that was now two inches closer, before returning to picking his nails. "Healing, for one. It's an extremely rare ability. Therefore, the healers are protected and carry a certain position in society."

That's why he commanded respect, I thought. Why he could tell Sean off.

Wait.

"Sean is one of you, right?"

Max stilled. "Yeah."

"What's his ability?"

Max glanced up at me, pouring his wariness from his eyes to mine for a second before dropping his eyes again and mumbling, "Sean is not a hybrid."

My heart stopped, the breath falling cold on my lips.

Not a hybrid.

That meant…

"Oh my God," I whispered, putting my head into my hands, squeezing my eyes shut.

 _I kissed an alien!_

"He's alien?" I gasped, the sound muffled by my hands.

"So am I," Max said in a quiet rejected tone.

I removed my hands, letting anger run through me. "No, it's not the same." I bit my lip as I saw his eyes flash to life. Something more than rejected sadness. "Does Sean even look like the person he portrays himself to be?"

"No," Max replied.

I shuddered. "What does he look like?"

"You don't want to know," Max said slowly.

I bit my lip harder. Yeah, maybe I didn't want to know.

I decided to let it go. For now. "What's his ability? His unique ability?"

Max shifted in his seat. "Mind control."

"So," I wet my dry lips, "That's what he was doing to me?"

Max looked nauseous. "And he's very strong, very good at it."

"That's why you didn't want me around him."

"Give the girl a prize," Max grumbled.

"So his parents are…"

"Both alien," Max filled in.

I looked down at my fingers, letting the silence stretch between us as I tried to take in all this information. So, some of the aliens married aliens, but others selected humans… Or the humans picked the aliens.

"Does your mom know?"

Max frowned. "That we're aliens? Of course she does."

"Did she… marry your father voluntarily?"

Max looked away, shoulders tensing, before he answered without conviction, "Of course she did."

 _That's a lie._

I closed my eyes. Poor Diane. I shivered. Was she a prisoner in her own life? "How did they meet?"

Max gave me an incredulous look. "You really want to talk about my parents' love life?"

Before I could filter my reactions, I glared at him, which to my surprise made him laugh quietly. His laughter and the way it produced small crinkles around his eyes, chased away some of the darkness which had started to settle inside of me.

"I'm just trying to get my head around this," I mumbled, curiously watching his profile as he looked down at his hands.

His hands. I wanted those hands closer. I wanted them to touch me, to bring heat back into my cold body.

"Take a picture; it'll last longer."

There was something wistful in his teasing tone, his eyes too intense to be nonchalant as he observed the blush creep up my cheeks.

 _Can you always read my thoughts?_

 _No. Only when connected like this._

I relaxed into the assurance that Max couldn't possibly know that I had just pictured his very non-platonic touch on my body.

To cover up the slip of my desire, I grumbled, "You're such comic relief," doing my best to appear annoyed.

He laughed again, and a little bit more of the cold inside of me dissipated. I couldn't prevent the small smile from touching my lips at his response. Sadly, I realized that Max didn't laugh much. Sure, he did a lot of grinning and smirking. But I rarely saw him experience genuine fun.

Would I be laughing, had I been Max? I frowned. Probably not.

"That's new," Max said, sobering, and I wondered what he was thinking.

"You being funny?" I asked.

"Not really what I'm known for," he shrugged, the remnants of a smile lingering on his lips.

"Don't worry; it still needs practice," I assured him and his smile twitched. He was a lot more relaxed all of the sudden, and I wanted to hold onto that setting. I wanted him to experience some moments of happiness for once.


	27. TWENTY-SEVEN

**TWENTY-SEVEN**

But apparently, Max wouldn't let himself be carefree too long. Without any prompt from me, he turned serious and said, "Um… We can bond with humans."

I practically rolled my eyes at him. _No shit, Sherlock._

He smiled at me, the gesture wobbling with insecurity. "Right. You already knew that."

I curled my arms around my middle, my voice matching his smile in insecurity, "How do you bond?"

"Usually, through…" he winced, his tongue moving out over his lips before replying, "copulation."

I seemed to have no control over my body this close to Max. My cheeks heated and my eyes dropped to my hands. I was suddenly very nervous. And incredibly aware of Max's presence in my small room. I could hear every breath he took and felt his eyes burn into the side of my face.

I could only guess why he would use such an underused term for sex. He was trying to dissociate himself to the act; trying to separate it from what he considered was 'normal sex'.

I licked my dry lips, my voice raspy in my dry throat as I whispered - without looking at him, "But we- we haven't-"

" _Usually_ through copulation," Max repeated, sounding just as uncomfortable with the subject as I felt. "A bonding like that can be broken, if the human female changes partner- um, changes sexual partner."

"Right," I mumbled, wanting to sink through my bed.

Why was I talking about sex with Max Evans in the middle of the night in my bedroom wearing only a T-shirt again?

"We're bonded because I-"

I remembered what his father had insinuated just before he had wanted to rattle though my mind, "Because you healed me."

"Minor injuries don't require a connection to the healer," Max continued, as means of explanation.

"Like how you removed my headache." _With just your palm against my forehead._

"Yeah."

"But I didn't have minor injuries…"

He didn't reply, didn't fill in my open question, making me look up and glance over at him. He was fisting the edge of my duvet in his right hand while staring out at the room with a distant look. His mouth was set into a grim line and he looked…pained.

My heart struck an extra beat in trepidation. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head slowly and blinked. Once. Twice. His gaze slanted over my face briefly, before he looked away again. "Your injuries…"

He licked his lips again. There had been a strain in his voice. My whole body tightened in longing, of needing to assure him. Of something. I wasn't sure of what. What was running through his head right now?

I was starting to feel guilty (guilty about what?) on top of sharp emotional pain and distress.

The frown between my eyebrows deepened. Wait? Why?

I looked at him closely and it hit me. "That!"

He looked up at me, his eyes widening in a surprised wordless question. Slowly, carefully, he asked, "What?"

I straightened, a small jump in my body. I felt oddly excited. "Those are your feelings, aren't they?" Excited because things were starting to make sense. "All this time, it's been real. I can really feel you."

He was staring at me like _I_ was the one who just announced I was an alien.

"But…" my body calmed down in confusion and slumped. "You said you couldn't read my thoughts…"

The memory of me standing in my shower, naked as one normally was in the shower, with the strong sensation that Max was standing behind me, took a strong hold of me and I gasped in shocked fear.

Before Max got the chance to say anything, I self-consciously pulled the duvet up to my chin, like I was sitting naked in front of him. "You've been here. With me. When I've been…"

He looked at me closely, seriously, as my voice trailed off in shocked revelation. "Not in person."

"But, I could _feel you_. Here." I patted the bed. "With me."

He took a deep breath. "Through the bond, even at a distance, I can sense certain heightened feelings." He fidgeted with the duvet. "I guess you've been able to do the same with me. Although you haven't known about it."

"And you…what? You project yourself into my mind?"

He rubbed his eyebrow in frustration. "I'm not sure, I've never been connected to anyone before."

He hadn't?

That distracted confession made my heart soar. Internally, I rolled my eyes at myself.

 _You're a pathetic, lovesick fool, Parker._

"I just hear you," he said, dropping his hand and catching my eyes.

My lungs stopped working in anticipation of what he was going to say.

"And I reach out for you…" He frowned. "You could really sense me with you?"

 _Yes, you've been comforting me. Helping me through some of my darkest moments._

But I didn't want to tell him that. I didn't want to appear vulnerable and exposed. Instead, I just nodded.

"Cool," he said under his breath, like this whole thing was news to him too.

Maybe that wasn't the word I would use, but okay. "So, healing me bound us together?"

"When you heal someone from grave injury, you have to form a connection to their mind, so that you can gain access to their body, locate the injuries on a cellular level, and feed healing energy into that individual."

Which confirmed what I had already suspected. Max had been like a big battery, recharging my body when it had been hurt.

"Which brings me back to the gene stuff."

I nodded, finding myself speechless. I just wanted to get all the information now.

"If my kind connects with a female with that rare gene - which you have - and it's switched on, the connection is really strong. Through the connection, the alien will be able to pull energy so that he'll become stronger."

"I'll become your battery," I said slowly under my breath.

"What?" he asked, not having heard me.

I looked up at him, bypassing my comment and asking, "So that's why you want humans with that gene? They'll make you stronger?"

Max nodded grimly. "There are different strengths to the connections, but with a particularly strong one, the bonded couple will in essence become invincible. There's rumors that a connection in some cases become unbreakable."

 _Unbreakable._

"Which is highly sought after in war. It will give us the power to explore other special abilities than our own and enhance the things we are already skilled in."

Sean. Was that why Sean had shown such interest in me? And if my mom had the gene too… "Was that why my mom was dating Sean's dad in high school? Because of the gene? Because he wanted the power?"

Max frowned. "You know about that, huh?"

Oh, Max Evans. The things I know.

"Mom never told me, but I found several pictures in their yearbook." Max hesitated and I added frankly, "Look. I have no illusions at this point that their romance was purely based on love. Just tell me. Did he use her?"

"They were bonded," Max replied slowly and after some hesitation, he added, "Your mom was probably a big reason as to why Sergeant was able to earn the position he has."

I blanched. All I could think of was the Sergeant manipulating my mom the way Sean had done with me, basically raping her repeatedly just so that he could gain more power over the other aliens. Because if I understood Max correctly, Sgt. Carter was no healer, so in order to bond with someone, he would've have to…copulate.

I felt faint.

"He earned his respect through controlled fear. The things he can do…"

I gulped, feeling the walls closing in on me.

"Liz? Are you okay?"

The air felt deprived of oxygen, my thorax spasmed and I leaned forward trying to catch a breath.

"Hey!" Max called and I heard the rustle from the bed linen as he quickly moved off the bed and came to kneel on the floor in front of me. Then his hands were on my face, brushing down my arms, and back up again to my cheeks. "Hey, look at me."

"I…can't…" There was no air in the room.

"Liz," he called, his voice urgent. "Look. At. Me."

My eyes snapped open to his beautiful face, contorted in fear and worry, and I could only assume that the connection had opened between us instantly because suddenly air was flowing freely into my lungs.

I gasped, gulping the air into my lungs like a starving person.

"Liz…" Max said quietly and I realized that I was crying.

"He raped her," I whispered, my lungs still burning. A harsh sob wrenched through me, as I repeated, "He raped her."

Silently, Max quickly put his arms around me and pulled me down to the floor with him, me folding naturally into his lap, my legs falling down around his waist as I curled up against his chest.

"Shhh," he hushed into my ear as I cried. His hand was running through my hair consolingly and even with the horrible realization of what my mom must have lived through in my head, I didn't want to leave this place. I wanted to remain forever curled up in his embrace.

It wasn't just the idea that my mom had - probably on more than one occasion - been telepathically coerced into having sex that upset me. It was that I never knew about it. My mom had lived some kind of double life, in which she had been oppressed by aliens, and I never had a clue.

Hopefully, my mom had been just as clueless. Hopefully, they had erased her memory time and time again so that she never had to remember being violated and used.

Didn't change the fact that she still had to experience it while it actually happened.

My mind flashed to the nightmare I'd had just before abruptly waking up to finding Max in my bedroom. The nightmare that seemed more like a memory where I had been aware of everything Mr. Evans had been doing to me, but had been unable to move.

A deeper sob wrenched through me as I realized that I could have been my mom right now. If Max hadn't stepped in between, if he hadn't warned me about Sean or 'saved me' at that party, I might be at Sean's mercy right now. In every horrible possible way.

"How did she break out of the bond?" I sniveled against Max's chest. The front of his shirt was damp with my tears.

She must have broken out of the bond, right? How else would she have been able to get together with my dad, start a family?

Max's fingers stilled in my hair and there was a loaded pause before he answered, "She met your dad."

I wanted to believe that. I might have, if Max hadn't just told me about how some connections were unbreakable.

As if reading my mind (which apparently, he could sometimes do through our connection), Max added before I had a chance to protest, "But it had to have been more than that. A human doesn't just break out of a bond. Their will is no longer theirs. They can't make decisions like that."

I chilled. No will. No freedom. "But you said that the bond could be broken if there was another partner?" I left the word 'sexual' out of the sentence, because I was momentarily made very aware of how the insides of my thighs were resting against the outside of his hips.

I was seated on his lap, for God's sake!

Max's tone was casual, not hinting the slightest at if he was finding the subject awkward. "It can only be broken by another alien. And your father is no alien, so he couldn't have done it."

This comforted me. Even though I already knew that my dad was human, it was always good to have it confirmed.

"But your mom was different," Max continued. "She was strong." He paused and I could hear the ticking from the clock on my wall tick its way through five seconds, before he elaborated, "I wouldn't be surprised if she managed to fight him. For your father's sake. For your sake."

My heart clenched. Mom.

Of course she had tried to protect us. Even protect the future child she might have. It was a romantic notion; my mom - the human heroine - fighting the superior alien's mental powers so that she could find happiness and a normal life with her true love.

My mind once again snapped to my nightmare. Curling my fingers into Max's shirt, unconsciously bracing myself for his reaction, I said, "I'm able to fight you too. During your visits - your 'check-ups'."

Max was really quiet, barely breathing, and I waited him out.

"You remember that?" he whispered, his voice breaking.

"You didn't just visit me when you were younger. You called the visits 'check-ups' and sometimes it wasn't just you and your dad, but Sean as well. The last time was not too long ago, right?"

"You're not supposed to remember that," Max mumbled and I wondered if he had actually listened to anything I'd said past 'During your visits - your 'check-ups'.

Bitterness flooded me. "It's getting clearer." I leaned back slightly, looking unseeingly at the damp patterns my fear and sadness had created on his shirt. I was not ready to meet his eyes yet. "What were you doing during these visits?"

His hands drifted down from my hair, brushed down my back, along my spine, and fluttered to a stop at the small of my back. The faintness to the motion made me suspect that he wasn't even aware that he was doing it. That his thoughts were miles away.

But I was aware. My whole body tensed in anticipation and pleasant goosebumps exploded across my body.

"Checking your development."

I froze, my body stiffening. Good feeling gone.

 _Development?_

Max continued, "Unfortunately, a couple of years ago, when our race discovered people with that rare gene - we call the gene _gaea_ \- our people got a little too excited. We can be…" he paused and I imagined him licking his lips as he searched for the best way to express what he wanted to say, "…just as power-hungry as homo sapiens."

The pads of his fingers pressed hotly into the base of my back, along my spine. "And people died…"

I couldn't stop the loud gasp, and Max's explanation picked up speed - like he was expecting me to run at any moment - before he had gotten all the words out. "We learnt the hard way that the suitability of the human subject depends on several factors. They need to be able to withstand and support our energy needs, and their bodies have to be able to take large energy drainage when we need to use our powers beyond 'regular use'. The ability for a subject to provide energy depends on age and overall mental health."

A coldness was seeping into every cell of my body. I hated that Max was talking about this so rationally, so objectively emotionless. Like he was talking about a science experiment gone wrong or tiredly reciting informing which had been given to him over and over again. It was not like he was talking about the lives of several humans.

"My dad is trying to estimate when the subject is ready, by using medical, physical and mental parameters. There are certain rules set in place that we are not to touch a possible gaea before they are ready. Otherwise, there's a risk they might not survive it." He paused, before adding with a hint of bitter acid in his voice, "We have no use for dead subjects, so it's in our interest to do everything to keep them alive."

The coldness had now reached my heart. I tried to ignore his last comment - it made me want to throw up - and desperate to leave that line of conversation, I snapped my eyes up to Max as my mom's exhausted, but smiling, face flashed before me. "So when you said that my mom died from exhaustion…"

Max looked at me, his eyes dark and guilty. "They'd overdone it. Her body couldn't handle any more."

"So you set our house on fire to cover up her death," I stated. There was no need to ask, I was already certain of that fact.

Max nodded solemnly.

I bit my lips together against the onslaught of new tears. My voice broke as I whispered, "Were you involved? With my mom? With setting my house on fire?"

His eyes instantly hardened, anger flashing with warning. "You think I was pulling energy from your mom?"

I hadn't exactly meant that, but once he said it I was overcome with nausea at the implications of that. What he had to do to 'bond' with her. Unless he had healed her, of course.

"No," I sniveled. "But you were at my house at the time of the fire."

His body was suddenly very tense around me; all the edges of his body were pointing outwards. "I was looking for you. I was afraid that you would be there."

The coldness pulled back slightly and I asked in disbelief, "You were worried about me?"

He exhaled in irritation, looking away from me and shaking his head. "Sometimes you're really dense, Parker."

My stomach tightened at his words, simultaneously hurt and comforted. I brushed my hand across my face, rubbing at the semi-dried tears and pushed at his chest to move off his lap.

His hands fell away from the base of my back and I felt his eyes on the top of my head as I focused on getting my feet under me. His hands grabbed my upper arms and I felt myself being lifted to my feet.

God. He was strong.

I swallowed loudly, finding myself looking down at him as he was kneeling in front of me. There were questions in his eyes. Questions I couldn't answer. I just needed to put some distance between us.

"Why are you running so hot and cold on me?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes narrowed, his pupils dilated, and his lips tight. "I am?"

"You acted like you could barely be in the same room as me before, then you let me…" my voice trailed off, a fresh blush on my cheeks as I gestured towards his lap, the implied intimacy of our previous position clear.

He pushed to his feet, annoyance darkening his features as he roughly combed his hands through his hair. His voice was equally rough and annoyed. "I was trying to give you space, considering I was about to tell you that I'm not human. Sensitive subject and all that."

His annoyance drove into me, probably through that alien connection, heightening my own irritation. I pushed my own hands through my hair - momentarily forgetting that he was getting a clear view of my dressed-down sleeping attire. "I don't need your space. It wears me out. One moment you're saving me from some extraterrestrial freak, the next you're avoiding me for days." I laughed bitterly as his eyes turned black as charcoal as he watched me. "I mean, the only reason you're here right now, _finally_ giving me some answers, is because you wanted to disobey your father's orders."

"No," he hissed and glanced towards my bedroom door. "And keep your voice down."

I ignored him, our combined feelings propelling my emotional state out of control at an alarming rate. I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist, wincing at the pain from my abdomen, ignoring Max's glare - probably because I hurt myself - and felt tears of anger and hurt burn my eyes. "Why didn't you erase my mind, Max? Why go through all this trouble? Why put yourself in danger, when that Sgt. Monster is obviously not below punishing you for getting out of line?"

"Because it was safer!" Max seethed, stepping closer to me. I automatically took a step back, the back of my knees hitting the bed. Max's eyes narrowed, but at least he didn't come any closer. "You just wouldn't stay away. With your prodding and questioning - this fucking _quest_ of yours."

He promptly closed the distance between us, and grabbed my chin, his hot angry breath fanning across my face as I met his eyes defiantly. I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. "You made it fucking impossible for me to keep you safe. You were showing up at my house unannounced, without a cover-up story, and-," his fingers dug into my skin as his dark eyes blazed. His anger was dazzling. "-you put yourself straight into the lions' den by showing up at that party."

He let go off my chin and my breath rushed back into my chest (I hadn't even been aware of holding it) as he stared down at me. "You even brought your friend and jeopardized her safety." His accusation about Maria sliced through my heart and the angry tears spilled over, down my cheeks. He inhaled shakily, anger consuming him (I could feel it blazing through my own body), as he added slowly, "If I hadn't been there that night-"

"I know," I cried through my tears. "I know, okay! It was stupid. I'm stupid. But you weren't giving me any answers!"

"Which is why I'm here," Max bit out. "Apparently, to stop you from snooping around and putting yourself in danger-"

"You can't treat me like this," I whispered, angrily brushing at the tears on my face. "I'm so confused."

"I'm giving you the answers-" Max started, but I shook my head desolately as he misunderstood me.

Before I had really thought through what I was about to say, my tongue slipped, "I'm in love with you."

My broken and vulnerable confession hung between us and I watched Max freeze. The angry blaze in his eyes went out like a light and he took a slow, dazed step backwards. "No…"

I was already regretting having said that. _Why had I said that? Stupid. Stupid._

"You can't love me," he breathed, fear sharp in his eyes.

"It wasn't really my choice," I bit out, huddling in my thin T-shirt.

He shook his head slowly, dying embers of anger slowly igniting in his eyes. I could feel the anger travel through me, building in intensity at the same time as I saw it transform his body, his features. If I hadn't been so hurt and vulnerable right then, it would've been a fascinating thing to experience.

"No, it's the bond," he said, his voice gaining in strength. "You're confusing it with the bond."

"No," I objected. Even if I hadn't been ready to admit it to myself until just recently, I had fallen for Max long before he healed me, long before we became connected mentally.

"Yes," he argued, his expression turning a tad frantic. "You don't know the force of the bond, it-"

"It's not the bond, okay!" I cried.

He briskly stepped up to me, grabbed me by the arms and shook me - hard - once. "You can't love me. Okay? I'm a monster. You can't love me. You don't know what you're saying."

Desperation. He was desperate for me to see his reasoning and frightened what would happen if I didn't. "You need to forget about me-"

I clenched my teeth together and brought my face boldly close to his. "Then why don't you just erase my mind?!"

Something cold entered his eyes, and just like an iron ribbon slamming down with a heavy thud, his emotions were closed off. "See? Right there. Just that I have the power to erase your mind, is enough reason to stay the hell away from me and people like me."

"But I won't be able to walk away," I said. "Because of this fucking gene. They will always be after me. Wanting to control me, fuck me-"

He flinched at my rough words and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by my bedroom door opening. My heart rushed into my throat. _Dad._ I had forgotten about him.  
My anger came to a screeching halt and my scared widened eyes naturally flew to Max's face.

He was looking at my father, oddly calm in the aftermath of our heated conversation.

"What's going-" my father's words trailed off as he saw that I was not alone. That his daughter had a teenage boy in her room in the middle of the night. And he was holding his daughter in a tight grip by the arms.

"Mr. Parker," Max said calmly, his fingers digging into my arms. "Hi."

My dad's eyes changed from confused and shocked to that of anger in the fraction of a second. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of-"

There was a sharp pull from the center of my ribcage and I looked from my dad back to Max. His eyes were transfixed on my dad. An ice-cold shiver ran down my spine.

Energy. Max was pulling energy from me.

"You're gonna go back to bed, Jeffrey," Max stated, evenly. "There's no one in your daughter's room besides your daughter - sleeping soundly. You're not gonna remember anything about this in the morning. You've slept through the night peacefully."

My dad's eyes widened, his face going blank. His voice was barely above a whisper as he acknowledged, "Okay."

Max's voice was hard as he added, "Go. Now."

My dad turned to leave and I looked back at Max, fierce anger reddening my vision.

 _You just mind controlled my dad!_

" _How could you?_ " I spit, my anger faltering some as he turned pitch black eyes to my face.

"See?" he hissed. "I'm a monster."

It felt like he had backhanded me across the face. I stared at him, speechless, as emotional pain vibrated through me.

"Don't worry," he said lowly and released my arms, taking a step back. "I'll find a way to break the connection. Then you won't be so _confused_ any more."

 _No._

And without any further words of goodbye, Max roughly grabbed the doorknob and rather violently ripped the door open, disappearing into the dark apartment.

I heard the front door slam a few seconds later, snapping the last shreds of my self-control, and I sank to my knees as my feelings shattered around me.


	28. TWENTY-EIGHT

**TWENTY-EIGHT**

"Lizzie?"

 _Say you love me, to my face  
I need it more, than your embrace_

I curled tighter in on myself and pulled my extra pillow over my face.

 _Just say you want me, that's all it takes  
Heart's getting torn, from your mistakes_

"Do you have this song on repeat or what?"

' _Cause I don't wanna fall in love  
If you don't wanna try_

I groaned. Why couldn't Maria just leave me alone?

I felt the bed dip as she sat down by my folded knees. I was in the fetal position, squeezing my eyes tightly shut against reality.

 _Baby, it looks as though we're running out of words to say  
And love's floating_

"I brought you some groceries," Maria said gently and I felt her hand stroke through my unwashed hair. "Your dad is starting to look like a skeleton, and I'm kinda afraid of what you look like under all those sheets."

"Go away," I mumbled, pulling the duvet closer around me.

 _Want to feel burning flames when you say my name  
Want to feel passion flow into my bones  
Like blood through my veins_

"How long has it been since you've eaten, anyway?" she asked, the worry clear enough to cut through steel. "Do you even leave bed?"

"Go away," I repeated, the lack of energy that comes with not eating making my voice weak.

 _Won't you stay?  
Slowly, slowly, you run for me  
But do you know me at all?_

"What happened?" Maria continued, obviously ignoring my faint pleas. "I thought you were doing well. Remarkably well, even. I wouldn't have been that strong. And then…" she paused, the chorus of the song taking over.

' _Cause I don't want to fall in love  
If you don't wanna try  
But I'll that I've been thinking of  
Is maybe that you might_

"Oh, for God's sake," Maria grumbled and Jessie Ware's voice was abruptly interrupted.

"Hey," I mumbled in weak protest, my eyes shooting open, but hastily closing them again against the bright afternoon sun. "I was listening to that!"

Next, the comforter was ripped off my body and I shivered at the sudden lack of protective warmth.

"Lizzie," Maria voiced sadly and I squeezed my eyes shut again as I felt her eyes on my body. "Let me help you in the shower. You need a shower."

"I don't want a shower," I mumbled, annoyed.

"That might be so, but 'want' and 'need' are two completely different things."

"Why do you care?" I asked tiredly.

"Because - even if you're like the most difficult friend ever - I love you," Maria replied simply.

My heart was currently numb to any confessions of that kind and I covered my face with my hands. "Please, just leave me alone."

"If you don't get out of that bed, I'll go and get Alex to help me."

My hands fell away as my eyes snapped open, widening, and they flickered to Maria's narrowing green eyes.

"Oh," she breathed understandingly in response to my reaction. "We're _so_ having that discussion, chica."

Reluctantly, I pulled myself into a seated position and pushed the duvet all the way to my feet. Maria helped me get out of bed. My whole body ached from its prolonged horizontal position.

"Is it your mom?" Maria asked as she tightened her arm around my waist, before deadpanning, "Of course it's your mom."

No, it wasn't just my mom. She was a big part of it. But mostly… Max and his mysterious life had helped me handle the grief from my mother's death. And now Max was gone.

Max was out there somewhere, trying to figure out a way to break the connection to me that he had opened. I wondered if he was trying the impossible. I had also wondered, at times, why Philip Evans hadn't found it fitting to try and break Max's and my connection once he found out we had one, not just ordering Max to erase my mind.

Did he really not think that I would have questions, even without memories, when I, in the future, continued to be assaulted by Max's feelings? Maybe Mr. Evans had just hoped that it would drive me insane - tick one problem off his list with me in the mental asylum.

But did he really want me gone? If human females with the gaea gene were so sought after, so attractive amongst his people, shouldn't he be happy that his own son had actually bonded with one?

Or maybe that was it. Once my mind was erased, they would use the connection without me knowing, just erasing my mind occasionally. Was that how they did it? With other 'subjects' (as Max had called us)?

But Max wouldn't do that, would he? Would he really use the connection the way he would be expected to, using my energy?

During my fasting days of solitude, I had considered this as well. And I was pretty sure that Max had already used me. Maybe not intentionally. But the pulling sensations on my chest, the odd bouts of fatigue, the night at the party when Max made us invisible (probably mind control) and I fainted afterwards, most likely because he had drained me.

Was he really a monster? 'Cause if I stacked up everything that had happened to me through the bond, the facts spoke for themselves. Max _was_ using my body without my permission.

Maybe that was why he wanted to break the connection. To protect me. Because maybe he wasn't able to control when he used me through the connection or not. And judging from his reactions - his worry - when he had drained me of energy, he really didn't like to 'use' me.

"Hey."

I snapped my head up, to my surprise seeing that Maria had pulled all of my clothes off without me noticing.

"Where did you go?"

I blinked, took two deep breaths, reached into the shower and turned the water on. Instead of answering her question, I said, "Thanks," and stepped into the shower.

Maria's voice was partly drowned out by the sound of the water as I pulled the shower curtain around the shower and ducked my head into the warm water.

"Do you need any help?"

No. I just wanted to be left alone. I bit back my irritation, knowing that she was only concerned. "No. I'm fine."

"Okay," Maria answered. "I'll wait in your room."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me any longer, and turned up the temperature of the water. The wound on my stomach had basically healed. Now I needed to scald myself to obtain the same release that the pain from the wound had previously given me.

* * *

"Did Alex and you have a fight?" Maria asked bluntly as I was pulling a fresh top over my head.

"What makes you think that?" I asked and walked over to my iPhone, docked to the speakers, and pressed 'play'.

I ignored Maria's glare of disapproval at my choice of song and selected 'repeat'.

"You won't take any of his calls," Maria said.

"I don't answer the phone, period," I refuted blankly. Well, not lately anyway. Even before Max disappeared on me, I'd been having trouble figuring out how my new phone worked. The one that had replaced the one that so conveniently disappeared at that weird party.

"Fair enough," Maria agreed, but she was relentless in her theory. "But you just looked scared shitless when I suggested to call for Alex's help earlier."

"You should ask him," I shrugged.

"I did! For once, the boy is frustratingly quiet. He just asked me if you answered when I called, which hinted that you _don't_ answer when he calls."

I didn't respond to this, stepping back into my bed and pulling the duvet up over the lower half of my body.

"He's worried about you. We all are." Maria turned big doe eyes on me and added, "Maybe you should see someone." She hinted towards the living room, where I could hear the sound of the TV. "Your dad _definitely_ should see someone. Since you've stopped taking care of this household, and him, he's just been fading away."

"I don't need to see anyone," I denied.

Max. I needed to see Max.

"Well, I'm giving you three more days, then you need to get your ass back to school, Lizzie." She dared me to protest. "Monday. Okay? I need to see you in school on Monday."

School.

Where Sean Carter would be waiting around every corner. With the risk of seeing Max doing his best to avoid me. With me glancing at every single person at that High School and wondering if they were alien, hybrid or human. If they really looked like they appeared or if they had changed their appearance to hide something unnatural, something alien.

I shuddered.

No thanks.

"Promise me," Maria begged, large eyes with sparkles of hope in them, trained on my face.

"Thanks for the shower," I mumbled and pulled the comforter over my head.

I could hear her breathing, feel the weight of her body press into my mattress as she sat next to my knee on the bed, and I suspected that she was considering hauling me out of that bed.

But, eventually, she stood and I heard the door close behind her. To my surprise, I was disappointed. Disappointed that she hadn't worked harder to force me back into the world of the living. Disappointed that she hadn't tried to get more answers out of me. Because, to be honest, I really really needed someone to talk to.

I was disappointed because giving up was not Maria's regular forte.

I felt like a shell. An empty, cold hollow vessel with no future.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and focused on the faint buzz at the back of my head. The buzz that comforted me. The buzz I suspected was no other than Max.

In other words; my alien connection to Max Evans.

* * *

The second I felt his blue eyes at the back of my head, I knew that it had been a bad idea to return to school. But I had convinced myself that I would probably be safer at school, surrounded by people, instead of alone in an apartment. There I would be guarded only by a grief-stricken, thin and weak father.

Besides, _It should be no problem for aliens to get through locked doors, right?_

And I really didn't want to give Maria any reason to make truth out of her threat about signing me up for a psychologist.

What would I tell that psychologist? There was nothing to talk about, because all the problems that should've been regular teenage problems were suddenly alien related. So there was really nothing a shrink could do for me.

I found myself without a way out. I couldn't escape this alternate universe I found myself in. The best way would probably be to move away from Roswell. But what was to say that they wouldn't follow me - track me down? And maybe then, on my own, I wouldn't have any means of protecting myself.

Simultaneously, I didn't want to leave. Roswell was my home. Maria was here. I would have counted Alex as a friend to miss as well, but I was heavily conflicted about the Alex situation at the moment.

 _Alex._ I bit my lip sadly at the thought of him.

Throughout my whole life, I had only been aware of Max Evans from afar. For the latter part of my life, I had considered him weird and had been afflicted with the strongest feeling that he was hiding something.

Hence, it was not that odd to find out that he actually _was_ hiding something.

But Alex… Alex had been my friend since second grade. We've had sleepovers, tried out weird food combinations together, braided each others' hair (Alex had had hair that curled below his ears as young), built tree houses and so on. He had always been there for me, through thick and thin.

During all those years, was there really not a single time when it would have been appropriate for him to tell me that he was an alien?

We had been close friends and still he had lied to me. Every single day. I felt betrayed and used, and I tried not to think about if he had at any time used any 'abilities' on me. If he had used mind control, like Sean, or even erased my mind.

So the jury was still out on Alex. Previously, I had considered confronting Alex and make sure that my research had been correct, but before I'd had the chance to Max had supposedly erased my mind, which meant that my research and knowledge of Alex was supposed to have been removed. If I were to confront Alex now, would he be loyal to me and not tell Mr. Evans that my memory was intact, or would he, out of loyalty to his race, sell me out?

Brushing the thoughts away (my head ached from all that intense thinking), I slammed the door to my locker, a biology book tucked under my arm. My stomach grumbled with the lack of food, but I ignored it. Food held no interest any longer. I had zero appetite.

As I turned away from the locker I saw Alex at the end of the corridor. He raised his hand in the beginning of a wave, but stilled in that awkward half-position as I looked away.

I decided to take another route to the biology classroom. I didn't want to risk Alex intercepting my walk in attempt to speak to me.

It proved to be a long detour, taking me down corridors which were momentarily deserted. This part of school housed the gym, the art room and the music hall. Apparently, not many classes were being held there at this time of day.

I met a teacher halfway through the main corridor. She glanced at me as I ducked my head and I pressed the biology book to my chest.

I heard the sound of her sensible heels impact the linoleum floor in a perfect rhythm, gradually decreasing in sound the more distance we put between each other.

I saw the sign to the gym at the end of the corridor and figured that there probably wasn't a class there right now. It would be quicker to take a short-cut through the gym than around it.

A new set of footsteps replaced the almost completely faded female steps of the teacher, these steps growing intensity - echoing off the walls - coming closer instead of moving away.

My heart fluttered with a touch of nervousness and without really having any justification as to why, I quickened my steps, pushed the door to the gymnasium open and let the emptiness of the vast room swallow me up.

Heartbeats were thumping wildly in my chest, the pulse strong against my temples, and I forced a nervous laugh out of me.

 _Don't be ridiculous, Parker._

It was in the middle of the day, in a public high school - why should I be scared?

Then the door to the gymnasium opened behind me. I had managed to put about twenty feet between me and the door by then, and I swirled around to see who it was.

Cornflower blue glittering eyes accompanied the smirk on his lips as he let the door swing closed behind him. "There you are."

I stopped breathing and my biology book hit the floor with a heavy thud.


	29. TWENTY-NINE

**TWENTY-NINE**

"I almost get the feeling that you're avoiding me," Sean said, walking slowly towards me.

My steps were equally slow as I started to walk backwards, keeping my eyes on him. "Just leave me alone, Sean."

He grinned, putting his hands out in an expression of innocence. "I'm just trying to understand what happened. I thought we had something good going."

 _With your mind control, bending my thoughts and will?_

The blood was rushing in my ears. "It was just one date. I didn't feel like we clicked."

My legs trembled as I kept on walking backwards, him prowling towards me with matching slowness.

There was a frightening gleam in his eyes as he added, "You didn't give me a chance, Liz. I like you. I really do."

"Sorry," I mumbled, losing my voice. "I just wasn't feeling it. The chemistry."

He laughed. Dry and humorless. I shuddered.

"Oh, Lizzie. There was chemistry. Trust me. I think…" he looked at something behind me and I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. I wanted to keep him in my line of sight the whole time.

He looked back at me, finishing, "…that someone else came in between us."

 _Max._

My thoughts brushed against the hum at the back of my mind briefly, before my back slammed into the short side of the large room.

I gasped in surprise at the sudden stop, while watching Sean getting closer. He continued to walk at a leisurely pace, letting me know that he had all the time in the world. All the control in the world.

"And who would that be?" I challenged, proud of myself for managing to keep the trembles out of my voice.

"Oh," Sean said, a large smile stretched across his lips, "I think we both know who I'm talking about."

He stopped two feet in front of me and I quickly glanced to my right, trying to estimate how far away the exit was; what the chances were of me getting there before Sean could reach out and grab me.

He grinned as he followed my look.

 _He's enjoying this._

"I think," he licked his lips and breached the space between us at the same time as I bolted to the right. But his arms were too long, or my legs were too much like jelly, because he easily grabbed my upper arm and tugged me harshly back against the wall.

He was panting as he pressed his body up against mine, trapping me between the wall and his body, his face only an inch from mine as he sneered, "I think Max really has taken his chances with you."

"Let me go, Sean," I whispered, intending to sound strong but unable to produce more than a whisper.

Sean's hands tightened around my arms and he slammed me once up against the wall, the back of my head impacting with the unyielding structure. I winced.

"I think you two have screwed," he said, an easy smile on his lips but only coldness in his eyes.

 _He's 100% alien. He's hiding behind a human mask._

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing him to go away like a bad dream.

He jostled me again, spitting, "Look at me, Liz."

I opened my eyes, almost expecting a real grey alien to look back at me (was that what he really looked like?), but those unnaturally blue eyes were still burrowing into my head. Had he chosen those blue eyes? Did he consider the chosen color of his eyes a pleasant human trait that would speak to the human female population?

"You're scaring me, Sean," I whispered.

He couldn't know that I knew so much. He couldn't know that I was anything else but a clueless human. Because Max wouldn't tell.

Right?

His eyes turned dark, shifting into nuances of dark marine, as if he was angered by my weakness rather than sympathetic to it. "Did he fuck you?"

I jumped as if he had struck me, because his hands were suddenly at my waist, his fingers curling into my abdomen.

I shook my head, answering honestly while looking him straight in the eyes, "No."

His eyes narrowed and I inhaled sharply as he pushed his hands underneath my shirt, sliding up the bare skin beneath, to cup the underside of my bra. "He did something."

"Get off me," I whispered, my voice stronger now as survival and anger overrode my instinctive fear of aliens and what they could do to a insignificant human like me.

With my anger, the buzz in that small area of my mind increased, like someone was turning up the volume. I wanted to press my palms against my ears - as though it would stop the painful sound - but I didn't want to give anything away in front of him.

"He's in your mind. Where _I_ should be." He cupped my breasts.

My arms came up and shoved at him, but I barely made an impact, only causing mirth to crinkle around his emotionless eyes.

Sean tsk'ed. "Now now…" His fingers were slowly sliding inside the protective cups of my bra as he leaned in and placed a (uncharacteristically) soft kiss on my cheek. Pulling back, he looked into my frightened eyes, continuing, "I wanted to do this the right way. Make you fall for me. Make you mine in every way possible. But that-" he took a deep breath "-fucking Max Evans had to interfere." His thumb brushed against my left nipple and my stomach cramped with nausea. "So I just have to make this quick. Cause once I've change your-" he laughed and continued - as if his voice was making air quote signs "-'mind', you wouldn't want some alternative like Max Evans."

Through the buzz I heard a distinct voice. Worried and sharp.

 _Liz?!_

Outside my mind, Sean pulled his hands away from my breasts, out of my shirt, pressed his hands into the my shoulders, rooting me in place, and pushed his mouth onto mine.

I struggled as his tongue tried to pry my lips open.

"Noo," I mumbled through tightly squeezed lips and used every ounce of energy in my being to push against him.

 _Where are you?_

The buzzing had stopped and Max's voice was as clear as if he was standing next to me. I reacted the only way I could; I focused on pushing Max away, on denying his presence, while physically struggling against Sean whose hands were putting a painful pressure on my shoulders.

I couldn't have Max in my head when this was happening. I couldn't let him see me weak, vulnerable, and exposed while at the mercy of one from his own species. I couldn't let him watch as I was being sexually assaulted.

There was a snap in my mind. Like a light switch clicking off. Instant coldness spread in my whole body and I was so perplexed by the sensation that for a second I lost focus on Sean and he forced his tongue into my mouth.

I gagged, kicked up with my knee, trying to hit something 'vital'. But he was standing too close, immobilizing me.

"Mmm," he moaned and pulled back, a smile of delight on his lips, as if he had just tasted his favorite dessert, and my heart was thumping in my ears as I stared at him breathlessly.

By the time I saw the understanding dawn in his eyes by the small line forming above his nose, it was too late to avert my eyes.

"Ah," he sighed satisfactorily as my body stopped cooperating. "There we go."

 _He's in my mind. He's in my mind. He's in my mind._

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Sean mused with a bright smile. I would have shivered if I could.

Sean took a step back, put his head to the side in thought as he hungrily glanced down my body. My slow mind registered that he had let go of my eyes, but I was still trapped in his control.

His eyes locked with mine again and he reached out and took my hand in his.

"Let's go some place more private," he said with mock gentleness.

My legs greedily agreed, following easily after him.

While walking towards the side doors - leading to the locker rooms - I heard the door at the other end of the gym open.

I wanted to turn my head and look. But I couldn't.

"Ha," Sean mocked, giving a triumphant laugh. "You're a tiny bit too late, Evans."

Even during the control Sean had over my body, my heart rate escalated as hope ignited in me.

 _Evans_. It was either Max or Isabel.

I would gladly take either.

"You do know it's not such a good idea to force yourself on girls, huh, Carter?"

Max. It was Max.

Sean shrugged, winking at me as if we shared an intimate joke. My body was motionless, stiff as a statue.

"I think I can win her over without force. Right, Liz?"

Sean looked away from me, in the direction of where I'd heard Max's voice. "Besides, you should learn to share, Evans. It's not like you've married the girl or anything. You don't really have any claim on her."

"Neither do you, by the looks of it." Max's voice was controlled and even, and increasing in volume. I suspected he was slowly walking closer. "She doesn't necessarily strike me as a willing participant."

I watched Sean's eyes narrow as he looked at Max.

"Tell me, Sean," Max continued. "After you've gotten what you wanted, how do you plan on keeping this from her? It's not really like you can go on erasing her mind. You know as well as I do what happens with too many memory wipes."

Sean glanced at me, the hint of a smile on his lips. "Eh… I guess I'll just have fun as long as it lasts. There are more fish in the sea."

"So you'd risk her life-"

Sean sighed impatiently. "When are you going to learn, Evans? We're the superior species here. We can do whatever we want - fuck the consequences." He hitched his head towards my frozen shape. "Just take Liz here. I was convinced that you had gotten to her first, but after just a little coaxing, a little one-on-one," he wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully at Max, provoking him, "not even _she_ could resist me."

There was a pause, in which I had time to become afraid. Where was the comeback? Why wasn't Max doing anything? Why wasn't he tackling Sean to the ground or just pulling me out of his grip?

"You're wrong, Sean," Max said then, quietly. "I _have_ made a claim on her."

The smugness on Sean's face fell.

"That's why you haven't been able to control her."

Sean shook his head. "No, no one has given you the right-"

"Has anyone given _you_ the right?" Max interrupted.

"My father is-"

"Yeah yeah," Max brushed off. "Your fucking dad's in charge. That doesn't mean that you don't have to follow the rules like everyone else."

The smug slowly crept back onto Sean's face. "No, but it means that I get first dibs. And this one," Sean put a hand behind my neck and sharply pulled me into his body. I crumbled against him. "This one is a keeper. I want this one."

"You can't break this claim," Max said quietly and he sounded further away as Sean's body was shielding me from him. I was basically hanging off his side, my body losing strength and energy by the second.

"I'm sure my dad would like to know what you did to her," Sean mused. "How did you _claim_ her, as you so conveniently calls it?"

Max responded with silence and I fought against the darkness that was weighing down on my eyelids. Whatever Sean was forcing me into doing, my body couldn't take the strain much longer.

Then I heard Max sigh and he said, under his breath, "Fine. Do whatever."

Ice spread into every part of my body. _What?_

To my horror, I heard footsteps retreating. Was he walking away?

Sean smiled at me. "See? You're better off without that loser. He's a coward."

But I wasn't listening to him. I was listening to the sounds of my only hope growing weaker until I heard the opening of the door echo in the large hall and slam shut.

Sean tightened his arm around my waist and hauled my limp body up against his. His lips were cold as they brushed against my cheek with his whispered promise of, "Now it's just the two of us."


	30. THIRTY

**THIRTY**

Sean's mind nudged mine into taking a seat on the bench in the middle of the boys' locker room. My body did as ordered, trembling from exertion.

"Hmm…" Sean quickly scanned the room. "I know it's not the most romantic…" He looked at me, smiling, before pursing his lips in thought. "And, of course, it would've been a lot better if you were a bit more enthusiastic…"

My head throbbed as he pushed his will more strongly, overriding mine completely. I felt me slowly wanting to betray myself, my feelings turning almost warm (lukewarm) as I looked at Sean.

"This is okay," I mumbled, feeling a traitorous smile bloom on my lips. The more tired I grew, the more he inched into my brain.

He smiled and bent at the waist to lean in close to my face. "There's my girl."

The headache kept on pounding as a girlish giggle left my lips. I frowned, suddenly feeling worried about Sean. "Baby, you look tired."

His smile faltered for a second before he brightened and softly brushed his lips against mine. My lips burnt while my back straightened with ice.

"I'm okay," he replied. "Just tired."

"What if someone sees us?" I asked, looking deeply into his eyes. Had I even noticed before how blue they were? Like crystal summer water. I could swim in those eyes. Get completely lost.

"Oh, baby," Sean mumbled, brushing his fingers down my cheek. "I just need you so much. I know this isn't the place-"

I closed my eyes for a second against the headache that was splitting my head in two, "I need you too. I don't care that it's here." There was a desperation in my body and I was convinced that Sean was the only one that could satiate it. I opened my eyes and fought the headache-induced nausea as I locked eyes with him and whispered, "Make love to me, Sean."

He looked really tired now. Exhausted, really. The concern rocking my body felt foreign and out of place, but I brought my hand up to run down his cheek, down his neck. "What's wrong? You look sick."

He caught my hand in his, removed it from his cheek, and kissed the knuckles. Hitching his head towards the shower area, he ignored my concerned observation, saying, "Would you like to take a shower with me, Ms. Parker?"

My heart fluttered at the use of 'Ms. Parker', an errant thought trying to take hold of my hijacked brain, but failing.

I smiled. "I would love to."

Sean helped me to my feet. My legs trembled. I was so tired. So tired.

As he guided us over to the showers, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut against the headache.

"Sit here," Sean mumbled and escorted me to a bench in front of the entrance to the shower area. His eyes hungrily traveled down my body, and the slow lick of his tongue over his lips made desire shoot through me.

The thought and the realization it brought was sudden and invasive; _I love him so much._

"I'll help you out of those clothes," he said and kneeled in front of me.

My hands slowly sifted through the hair at the top of his head, as his trembling fingers unbuttoned my jeans.

I gasped as the back of his fingers brushed against me intimately, with only my panties between, as he slowly pulled the zipper down. The sensation made me dizzy and I momentarily fisted my hands into his hair, attempting to prevent myself from falling off the bench.

Sean slid his hands inside my jeans, over my hips, with the intent of pushing them off me, but he didn't get very much further than that.

His head whipped to the side, in the direction of the closed door, and in response to something I couldn't hear or see yet, he grumbled, " _Fuck!_ ", snapped his hands out of my jeans before he scrambled to his feet. The door pushed open as Sean was backing away from me.

"Mr. Carter," a dark voice boomed authoritatively and I tiredly turned my head towards the door, seeing the impressive face of our principal.

Behind him was Maria. I swallowed, my head aching. And behind Maria was Max.

"Oh my God," Maria cried, pushing past the headmaster and running towards me.

Confusion flooded me out of nowhere. Feeling completely lost, I looked back at Sean, wanting him to instruct me, navigate me through the confusion. But his attention was on the principal, a visible tremor in his body.

"Care to explain to me what you're doing in the _boys'_ locker room with a girl, Mr. Carter?" the principal asked and in the pause that followed, awaiting a reply from Sean, something snapped inside of me. Like a tightly wound rubber band breaking.

And I fell, slumping on my side on the bench.

Maria was there just in time to catch my throbbing head from hitting the bench.

"Oh my God oh my God oh my God," Maria mumbled and behind my closed eyelids I only saw darkness as my head pulsated.

Her fingers moved over my face, her movements restless and frantic.

"Have you given her anything?" I heard the principal ask the still quiet Sean.

"She looks drugged," Maria said worriedly, her voice moving in and out of my consciousness.

"I haven't given her anything," Sean denied. "She was acting a bit drunk-"

"Don't you fucking lie!" Maria erupted and my head spasmed at the decibels used.

"Mr. Evans here told me that you were forcing yourself on Ms. Parker," the principal continued, his voice sounding distracted. He quickly added, "Max, help Liz to the school nurse. She needs to be examined for suspected drug use."

"Jesus," Sean grumbled, "I haven't given her anything!"

"She's almost comatose," Maria snapped and I groaned at the sound.

I tried to move my hands to cover my ears, but they were so heavy.

"She's in pain," Maria whined helplessly, probably having heard my groan.

"Keep your voice down."

And suddenly he was there, really close. His command, which had been directed at my best friend, was both calm and dominating.

"Oh," Maria mumbled guiltily as I felt the heat of his body move in front of my prone one.

"Liz. Can you hear me?"

Of course I could hear him. His soft voice was the clearest in the room, cutting through the painful fog in my head. But I had forgotten how to speak, couldn't even move my head to nod.

I was aware of the principal and Sean speaking in the background, but the details of their conversation was drowned by Max's breathing, by his comforting presence.

"Open your eyes."

I would if I could.

"Why is she not waking up?" Maria whispered loudly.

"Max, take her to the nurse. Now," the principal said loudly and another moan broke across my lips at the loudness.

"Shhh," Maria hushed loudly and if things would've been different I would've laughed at the vision of my best friend scolding the headmaster.

"She appears to be sensitive to sounds," Max explained politely and then I felt him even closer. Felt his breath fan against my face.

"I'm gonna try something, okay?" he whispered to me, so quietly that I wasn't sure if even Maria had heard him. "I'm sorry that I'm doing this without your consent, but I… I'll explain later, okay?"

A shudder of fear brushed down my motionless spine. I really wasn't up to any more 'alien experimentation'.

Before the thought was fully considered, his lips touched mine.

And something turned and clicked inside of me; like something falling into place.

And I could feel him at the back of my mind again, brushing against the throbbing.

I vaguely heard Maria mumble, "What the-?" to my left, but it was impossible to focus on anything but Max right then.

His lips were soft, his touch almost tentative, but as I started to respond, pressing my lips against his, and opening my mouth slightly to capture his bottom lip between mine, the kiss quickly turned more heated. I slowly pulled my upper body up into seated position as his palms pressed into my cheeks, cradling my face, angling my head to facilitate the movements of his mouth against mine. Our tongues touched and I moaned as my eyes flew open.

I fell into his amber-colored eyes, but as our eyes locked, he immediately pulled away. His withdrawal was so abrupt that I almost fell against him as my body lost the support of his body.

His hands immediately came up to my shoulders to balance me.

"Steady," I heard him mumble through my shallow breathing. I saw the worry in his eyes, but there was something dark in there as well. Anger?

"What the hell, Max?" Maria hissed at the same time as the principal's strong voice cut through the haze around me with a, "Mr. Evans, what do you think you're doing?"

"Sean was just about to-" Maria whispered breathlessly and I blinked slowly as I watched her face turn a shade of red as she struggled to control her breathing, "-and then _you_ …"

My upper body was being held up only by Max's grip as I flickered my eyes back towards his face and found his black gaze still concentrating on me. As a result, I instantaneously blushed.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't normal for a boy to wake a barely conscious girl by making out with her.

Let's call it 'Sleeping Beauty with an Alien Twist', shall we?

"She's barely conscious," the principal grumbled, apparently thoroughly displeased with Max's actions, and I wondered if the man in charge of our school was, in that moment, considering dragging not only Sean but also Max along to his office.

"So, Sean drugged her and you kiss her?" Maria erupted and the - still very much present - pounding in my head was amplified by the shrillness of her accusation. "I thought you were one of the good gu-"

My weak voice put an instant end to Maria's recrimination and I was momentarily stunned by the confusing feeling of having been able to shut Maria off mid-sentence, before I - with Max's eyes searching my face (he hadn't even tried to defend himself, as though it didn't matter what they thought of him) - stuttered, "It's…it's…" trying to find my voice amidst the angry glares Maria was sending in Max's direction and harsh scowl the principal had donned while crossing his arms tightly across his wide chest.

 _Was I the only one in here to be happy about Max finally having kissed me?_

"It's okay," I said and finished with a lame, "He was trying to comfort me."

Something sparked in Maria's eyes, her mouth twisting into a disapproving and wry grimace, as she grumbled, "Comfort you, my ass."

"We need to get Liz to the nurse," the principal sighed, before his voice turned softer as he addressed me, "Do you trust Max and Maria to take you to the nurse?"

I nodded, straining to keep my upper body from swaying. But there was no sway in my voice as I stated, "Of course."

 _I trust them with my life._

The principal narrowed his eyes in warning as he looked at Max. "No more funny business, Mr. Evans. Are we clear?"

It was not until then that Max looked away from me. The sudden absence of his gaze could be likened to someone turning off a burning spotlight directed straight at you.

"Of course, sir. I apologize." Max's voice was appropriately polite and apologetic.

I wanted to roll my eyes at Max's obvious sucking up to the principal, but the attempt at the (temporarily advanced) eye gesture caused my dwindling energy to lose the meager control it had over my upper body and my head slumped forward, my forehead softly colliding with Max's left shoulder.

His hands immediately tightened around my shoulders and with my recent weight loss, his thumbs pressed almost painfully against my collarbones.

"Jesus, Liz," he breathed under his breath, his voice poisoned with worry.

"Nurse. Now," the principal barked impatiently as I fought a losing battle with my eyelids.

Maria stated the obvious. "She can't walk."

Max was already bundling my body up against his chest as he simply stated, "I'll carry her."

And without any fuss, as though I were as light as a feather, he gently put an arm in the hook of my knees, shifted me up against his body and angled my body so that my head lolled against his shoulder. As if he had spent a lifetime carrying me around.

"You left me," I whispered, too tired to even sound angry or hurt, my voice an empty monotone.

He looked down at me, his jaw muscles clenching. "I had to."

"You left me with him," I continued, the throbbing in my head intensifying.

"Let's get you to the nurse," Max mumbled, and I knew that he had to say that. We were not alone.

Had it been just the two of us, Max probably could have fixed me up himself several minutes ago.

"Make sure she takes a drug test," the principal said behind us, before Max cradled me even closer in his warmth and pushed the door open with his foot, leaving the boys' gym locker room behind.


	31. THIRTY-ONE

_A/N: Sorry for the short absence. I was on vacation. To make up for this, I'm posting 5 chapters today. Thank you for reading!_

* * *

 **THIRTY-ONE**

"Your head hurts, doesn't it?" he whispered.

My eyelids were so incredibly heavy as he brushed a tendril of my hair behind my ear, looking at me closely.

I nodded, slowly blinking, and looked at the grim set to his mouth. I was lying on my side, on the bed in the nurse's room. Max had pulled up a chair next to the bed and had, without hesitation - as if it was the most natural thing in the world - immediately taken my hand as he had sat down. He was now occasionally skimming the fingers of his free hand across my face, down my neck.

The touches were gentle and soft, but had a sense of purpose.

I wondered if he was checking my pulse when he touched the side of my neck, if he was checking if I had a fever as he brushed my forehead, and deciding if my pale cheeks were as cold as they looked as his thumb lightly stroked the sides of my face.

I had the strongest feeling that he was keeping a very close watch on my health status; second by second.

The nurse had left barely a minute ago to get some things and Maria (who had been seriously hovering, worried beyond rationality) had just admitted to having drunk about 33 ounces of Coke before she had run into Max. After a minute of restless dancing on the spot, Max had ordered her to go to the toilet.

Max and I were finally alone.

"How did he get in?" I whispered, and Max seemed to know what I was referring to, even without me having to use more explanatory words in my fatigued state.

 _How had Sean managed to gain access to my mind?_

Max was brushing his fingers across my forehead when I asked. Even though his touch was the gentlest of touches, his eyes darkened at my question and I noticed him subtly stiffening.

"You turned off the bond."

 _What?_ I frowned. No. I didn't. How could I? Was that even possible? Max had told me that only aliens possessed the power to do that and in some cases not even _they_ could affect connections.

Reading my confusion, Max said tensely, "Yeah, I don't understand how you did it either. You're not supposed to be able to do that." His eyes were turning increasingly stormy and his hand fall away from my face.

"Are you angry with me?" I whispered, my voice breaking with the emotional strain of the conversation.

He practically glared at me before pulling away from me and straightening. Clenching his jaw, he bit out, "Yes."

Hurt crept into my being and I restrained my own glare before I could add more gasoline to the brewing fire. "Why? It's not like it was my fau-"

"Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put yourself in?" Max hissed.

"I didn't-"

But Max wouldn't let me defend myself. His anger was flaring up. "I felt your fear and I reached out for you, trying to find you-"

 _Yes, I heard you._ I thought back to his voice in my head (how had he been able to speak to me, by the way, without a close connection), asking where I was. Just before…

 _Shit._ I had pushed him away. I hadn't wanted Max in my head at that time.

He caught on to the moment it dawned on me and his lips tightened, "Yes. That. Suddenly you were just gone. It was just quiet. Empty." He lowered his head and I saw his fists clench. Barely controlling his voice, he added under his breath, "I thought you were dead."

My mouth went dry and my heart ached with guilt. I hadn't meant to do that. He was the last person that I wanted to do that to. "You really thought I turned it off on purpose? That I even know how to do that?"

Max snapped his eyes to me; dark, dangerous eyes. "You left yourself completely at his mercy-"

As had happened before, when we had been having that conversation in my bedroom the other night, his anger seemed to feed into mine. As our feelings grew strong and were tempted to be brought out of control, it was increasingly difficult to separate his feelings from mine.

And right now, I was getting angry because he thought he had the right to be angry with me. When _he_ had been the one that wanted to shut down our connection.

He should be thanking me! Because I had, albeit accidentally, figured out how to turn off the bond. Just like he wanted.

He had no right to be mad at me!

"So shutting off the connection, as you call it," my fatigue was pressed down as the anger tapped into some unknown energy reserve, "-means that Sean was able to gain access to my mind and manipulate me?" I felt his hand tighten around mine and in response, I stubbornly pulled my hand out of his.

I could see in his eyes that he was not too happy about my withdrawal. But, right then, I couldn't give a damn.

I pushed to widen my eyes against the fatigue, struggling to stay conscious as I bit out, my voice weakening with every word, "So why then, are you so eager to break the connection? Do you want to remove my only protection against Sean? So that he can make me into his sex slave?"

 _Sex slave._

The term, and its implications, made Max pale and he didn't have time to come up with a response before the nurse stepped back into the room.

"How's she doing?" the nurse asked Max, as my eyes lost the battle with my eyelids.

"She has a headache," I heard Max answer, my eyes now closed. "And she's exhausted."

"And you have no idea what she could have taken?" the nurse asked.

 _Some alien juice?_ I thought and mentally shuddered. _Ugh. Don't go there, Parker._

"No idea," Max replied evenly and grabbed my hand again.

I tugged on it to make him let me go, but he was anticipating it this time and only tightened his grip at my resistance.

"I'm really worried about her condition," the nurse mumbled. "I've called for an ambulance. We need to transport her to the hospital."

 _No. Not the hospital._

"Okay," Max mumbled.

Max's father would be there.

"Your dad…" I mumbled and forced one eye open to look up at Max.

His face was a blank slate, but his thumb gently brushed over my knuckles, in a warm caress, before he turned towards the nurse. "Which hospital are they taking her to?"

"Um…" I heard the nurse open - what sounded like - plastic wrappers and there was hesitation in her voice as she answered, "I think it was North Fulton."

I blinked my eyes just in time to catch Max looking back at me, a reassuring half-smile on his lips. His reaction told me that Max's father didn't work at that particular hospital.

A faint sense of relief drifted through me as my eyes closed again. Max's eyes were scalding my face. I could feel it even with my eyes closed. So it was no surprise that he would come up with an excuse to get the nurse out of the room again.

"Sorry, but… she was complaining before that she was really thirsty. Could you get her some water?"

There was a pause, the unpacking of material halting.

"I really need to get these blood samples." Hesitation. Impatience.

"Please. She seemed really bothered by it."

I imagined Max doing his wounded puppy eyes-expression and I would have smiled, if my mouth hadn't been so tired.

The nurse sighed. "Okay. Sure."

I felt a soft hand on my shoulder and a soft squeeze. "I'll be right back, hun. Hang in there."

I warmed from her empathy and within that brief moment of normalcy I briefly wondered if Maria had gotten lost on her trip to the toilet.

As soon as the nurse was out the door, Max let go off my hand, cradled my cold cheeks in his palms and angled my face upwards.

"Okay. We don't have much time. I need to feed you some energy before you go off to the hospital. I can't risk sending you off there without it."

 _What will happen then?_ I silently thought. _Will I die? Just like mom?_

"He pushed you too hard," Max breathed, a twinge of anger behind his concern, before coaxing, "Look at me."

I tried. I really tried. But my fight with Max just now had robbed me of my last ounce of energy.

"Damn it, Liz," Max grumbled impatiently, sounding almost frantic while digging his thumbs into my cheeks. "Open your eyes."

My head felt heavy in his hands; I wouldn't be able to support it without his help.

"Don't make me kiss you again," Max said and my body at least had the energy to flush in anticipation. His voice was tight and hurried. In sharp contrast to the nature of his 'threat'.

 _Kiss me then._ Even my thoughts were slurred. _Kiss me._

As his thumbs stroked my cheeks and the tips of his fingers warmed the bony structure underneath, my lips burned with the memory of his last kiss and my stomach tightened with wanton anticipation.

"Parker?" he mumbled and then sighed loudly. "You're gonna make me kiss you, aren't you?"

I wanted to smile at that. At the annoyance and resignation in his voice.

 _Yes, if I can't have you, at least I'm gonna make you kiss me._

But to be honest, my body was beyond providing any alternatives. Kissing seemed to have solved the problem before. Why, I wasn't sure. But who cared? There were far less pleasant methods to make someone regain full control of their bodies than kissing.

"This is for your health," he whispered and I could feel his breath on my lips with every word. He was close now. "Okay? Only for your health."

I felt like laughing at him. It was pathetic in a way. How he was trying to convince me that there was nothing between us; that he wasn't looking forward to us kissing as much as I was.

But in a way it was sad. Sad that he needed to have an excuse. That he couldn't just let it be, let us be Max and Liz.

Not worried distant alien Max and tired damaged human Liz. Just Max and Liz.

His lips softly touched mine and my whole being sighed. This time, his kiss was slow. He was taking his time tasting and exploring my lips.

I wouldn't make the mistake of 'waking to life' too soon this time. I had a feeling he was going to be quick at pulling away; just like he had the last time.

"Liz?" his dark voice sent vibrations across my lips and I whimpered, my lips melting further with his as I felt bouts of power pulsate into me.

My heart rate was increasing and I couldn't tell if it was because of the sudden presence of new energy or the presence of Max.

"Liz," he mumbled again, his voice more satisfied than prompting as his hands threaded into my hair, his fingers tangling in my tresses.

I wanted desperately to move my arms, to wrap them around his strong shoulders, and pull him even closer.

But my arms were frustratingly lethargic at the sides of my body.

"Come back to me," he whispered and tugged my bottom lip gently between his teeth, cascading goosebumps over my whole body. "You're right there. Just a little…"

As he trailed off, my hazy brain understood what he meant. The connection - the telepathic part of the connection - was returning to life.

But I couldn't focus on that now. Max lips were warm and soft, his hands were moving distractedly across my scalp, buried in my hair, and an inexplicable heat was igniting from the core of my body.

 _Enjoying yourself?_

My eyes flew open in startled surprise at his amused voice in my head. I tumbled into his intense golden eyes and my face instantly flushed bright red.

The sensation of his lips still touching mine and his voice literally in my head, caused desire to make a beeline for my-

He quickly pulled back from me, separating our lips, and I was pretty sure he had been listening in on my every thought. The gold of his eyes had turned a darker shade of brown, like the warmest chocolate, as he stared at me, slowly licking his lips.

My breath fluttered in my breast as I looked at him. I couldn't look away. My breathing was loud in my ears and I was fighting to stay on the bed; to not jump at him.

Max's left eyebrow rose in a pointed look. "Only for your health, remember?" I noticed that he also sounded breathless as he added, quietly, "Let's not get carried away, Ms. Parker."

"Thank you," I said, apparently - judging from the widening of his eyes - surprising him. I took a deep breath, focusing on pushing the longing down. We couldn't be. Max and I couldn't be. He kept on telling me that. I should listen. For once. "I feel much better. Thank you."

"Good," he said, looking a bit awkward in light of my gratitude. But he kept his eyes trained on my face, his eyes turning pensive.

His unwavering stare made the blush warm my cheeks yet again and I had to softly implore, "What?"

"You fought him, didn't you?" There was admiration and something else (pride?) in his voice. "That's why you were so low on energy." A soft short laugh escaped him, as if he couldn't quite believe it as he repeated, mostly to himself, "You fought him."

Of course I had fought Sean. I didn't want that creep in my head. I didn't want him to take over my will. Take over me.

But I got the feeling - from Max - that fighting back was unusual.

I slowly licked my lips, a shiver of pleasure running through me as I realized that, before that, Max had been the last one to lick my lips. I realized that (even though he was not connected to me on a level where he could communicate with me mentally) he could probably feel every detail of what I was feeling then. This was evident from the fact that his pupils immediately dilated and drifted to my mouth, watching my tongue run over my lips.

Clearing my throat, watching Max guiltily snap his eyes back to mine, I said, "I'm sorry for pushing you away and breaking the bond. I honestly didn't realize I was doing it."

He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair as he offered, "Sorry for yelling at you. You couldn't have known that could happen." He looked confused and scared for a moment as he added, " _I_ didn't even know that could happen."

I frowned at the implications. "So how could I do that? How could I-"

Just then the nurse returned to the room, a glass of water in her hand. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw me sitting up on the bed, with probably a lot more color on my face ( _a lot_ more) than when she had left me.

"Oh," she breathed. "Are you feeling better, Liz?"

"Yeah," I replied and glanced at Max. His face had retained the concealing mask he usually wore in public. But my heart warmed as I noticed the small smile lingering on his lips.

"Great," the nurse said, relieved, and offered me the water. "Drink up, Liz. And we'll get those blood samples."

"Sure," I replied, but tensed as I saw Max rising from his seat out of the corner of my eye.

"Since you're feeling better, I'll just return to class," Max announced and my stress levels skyrocketed.

"I'm sure we'll be fine now," the nurse said with a smile.

I could only feel the cold seep into my bones, freezing my ability to protest.

But it appeared that I didn't have to audible voice my protest. Max paused in his departing movements and those warm comforting eyes fell on my face. Worry was once again tightening his facial features. "You okay?"

I mutely shook my head.

A deep crease developed between his eyebrows and he stepped up to me, looking at me closely.

He could feel my distress. Maybe even the coldness.

"Is it your head?" he asked, pointedly. Wanting me to know about everything else that he was asking at the same time, but couldn't be spoken out loud in front of the nurse.

"Are you feeling worse again, Liz?" the nurse asked.

The glass trembled in my hand, its content vibrating against the insides of the container. Max reached out and quickly took the glass from me, before I could spill the water all over myself.

"Blood," I whispered, finally getting my vocal cords working.

"What?" Max asked, leaning in closer.

I tried to focus on the warmth he was emitting (why was he always so warm?) instead of the thought of the needles. Of the blood.

In Max's presence, it hadn't worried me too much that I'd had to give blood. Maybe it was some unconscious remnant of him always being present (even though I couldn't really remember it), during the aliens' nightly blood sampling during my upbringing. Because from what I could remember, Max seemed to have always played the role of the comforter, of the person that removed the pain and made everything better at the end.

But with the threat of Max leaving, my fear of needles and blood came rushing back.

"Could you stay?" I asked, my voice almost too quiet to be audible.

His eyes flickered to the prepared syringes, the vacutainer and the tourniquet on the small metallic tray table next to the bed and I watched understanding hit him.

He gave me a crooked half-smile, reclaimed his seat in the chair next to the bed and grabbed my cold hand. "Class can wait."


	32. THIRTY-TWO

**THIRTY-TWO**

I averted my eyes as the nurse at the hospital connected the bag of IV fluids to the intravenous catheter taped to the back of my left hand. Fortunately, the school nurse had taken the initiative to place the iv catheter while still at school, which meant that Max had been there, holding my hand, during the procedure.

I remember looking at Max in surprise as I had felt a comforting warmth spread through my body, just seconds before the nurse had punctured my skin. I had felt like laughing at the innocent expression on his face while he was pretending that he was doing nothing more than holding my hand.

When in fact, he had been soothing the pain of that small puncture of my skin, even though it would only sting for a second. My heart had trembled at the gesture, making me study his face more closely. He hadn't met my pensive gaze, his attention focused on the nurse as she was taping the iv catheter to my skin, which had given me ample opportunity to make an attempt at cracking his appeared expression of indifference.

"There. All done."

The memory of Max's face disintegrated in front of me and I turned to look at the smiling nurse, before glancing down at the thin plastic tube attached to my hand.

"Thanks," I mumbled distractedly. My head was still hurting, but at least my energy wasn't so low since Max had 'refueled me'. A fresh blush crept up my cheeks at the thought of that refill.

"The doctor will be with you soon," the nurse said, her smile softening. "You just sit tight."

Fortunately, Max's magic trick had probably saved me from the rather uncomfortable procedure of getting my stomach pumped. Which in all likelihood would've happened had I been just as semi-comatose when arriving at the hospital as I had been in that locker room.

I looked up as the nurse turned to leave the room, drawn by the commotion coming from the corridor outside of the open door.

"Oh, this is it. This must be it. Come along, Mr. P."

 _Maria._

A relieved smile broke out across my face as she tumbled around the doorway. But that smile quickly disintegrated as I saw the thin shape of my dad being pulled by Maria.

 _Daddy._

Maria was on the taller side for a girl; slender with long legs that sometimes seemed to go on for miles. With her blonde hair in a wavy halo around her head and a breathless agitated expression on her face, she looked very much like your everyday Maria DeLuca.

What struck me was my dad. I hadn't seen him out in public for so long; only holed up on the couch at home. But now, seeing him next to Maria's slight frame (which he normally would've appeared broad-chested and masculine next to), it hit me just how small my dad had become. He was now not much wider than Maria, the clothes hanging off his body like off a scarecrow and the arms - sticking out of his T-shirt - looked thin, veiny and sinewy. Nothing like the muscled arms of the father that, usually, could lift me off the ground and spin me around - even after I had reached full Elizabeth Parker size.

"Oh, Lizzie," Maria breathed in excited relief as she let go of my dad and quickly moved up to my bed.

"Hi, Maria," I said and glanced - feeling nervous, vulnerable and exposed in the eyes of my father - briefly in dad's direction, "Hi, Daddy."

Maria reached out and wrapped her long fingers around my catheter-free hand in a comforting squeeze, before letting go to - in a whirlwind of energy that was only Maria - spin around and start pulling chairs up next to the bed.

"Here, Mr. P," she said, pointing towards the chair closest to the head of the bed. "Take a seat."

"You really didn't have to come," I said, observing how Maria discreetly held her hands in the air behind my dad's emaciated shape as he moved, as if she was prepared to catch his body if he were to fall.

Even though I wanted to find it ridiculous ( _Why should my 61-year-old father be treated as a sick 80-year-old?_ ), I had that same protective feelings of wariness coursing through me as I watched his careful walk.

My body was infused with love at how Maria was looking after my father.

Instead of taking the offered seat, my father leaned over me, his concerned blue eyes searching my pale face, before he pressed a kiss to my forehead. My mouth went dry at the gesture, feeling protected and guilty all at the same time. I desperately searched my mind for words to reassure him that I was fine, but he interrupted me with the quiet words of, "My sweet baby girl," which made me swallow hard.

"Don't be ridiculous," Maria huffed, probably not having heard my father's solemn statement as she commented on my previous remark. "Of course we came."

I smiled faintly at my friend as my dad pulled back and took the offered seat next to Maria. I briefly wondered how much more Maria was doing in the background. How much she had been helping out, even without me knowing it. I had been a bit out of it lately, too messed up with alien issues and intermittent health matters to focus on my dad.

The guilt which had been creeping around in the background was slowly bubbling up my throat and it might've threatened to choke me hadn't Maria started talking.

"This place is like the freaking Fort Knox! I should've just gone with you in the ambulance, when Max wasn't allowed to. That way I wouldn't have lost sight of you." She looked to my dad and added, "But then I wouldn't have been able to pick Mr. P up, of course. And he certainly made it easier for me to get in here." She scrunched her nose up in disapproval. "'Family Only' and all that crap."

Max had still been with me when the ambulance had arrived, and he _had_ offered to come along, but the EMTs had stopped him - saying that it was only for family. Feeling much better at that point, I had assured Max that I was fine - afraid that him coming along might worsen the appearance of Max's involvement in this situation.

"They probably wouldn't have let you come along in the ambulance anyway," I said.

Maria looked a bit lost for a second, the annoyance losing its place in her appearance as she looked at me closely, "I just didn't want you to think that I had just left you - to go to the hospital alone. I mean, after what happened-"

"What _did_ happen?" my dad interjected and mortification spread up my cheeks at the scarce number of answers I could provide for that question.

Time to include my dad in the Club of Deception.

I looked down at the white clean sheet tucked around my midsection, absent-mindedly fiddling with the material while I mumbled, "There's this boy at school-"

"He's an asshole," Maria declared simply and, startled at her frank words, I looked up at my dad to gauge his reaction.

Dad frowned, saying slowly, "Okay…"

"He's not an asshole," I protested weakly, but couldn't really meet Maria's eyes as I said so. "He's-"

"There was a police car parked outside of school when I left, you know," Maria interrupted and my heart tripped as I looked at her. "And you know as well as I do why it was there, Lizzie. Good guys don't get visits from the police."

"Maria told me that he…took advantage of you," my dad said, his voice strained, and I felt the heat of embarrassment creep up my cheeks. This was almost as bad as having 'The Talk' with your parents.

"He sure as hell tried," Maria grumbled.

I wanted to back Maria up and tell my dad what a creep Sean was. I wanted to tell them both of how Sean had practically stalked me, made me feel very uncomfortable and frightened these last couple of weeks, and that he _had_ in fact tried to 'take advantage' of me.

But I knew that I couldn't do that. I was afraid of my words coming back to not only hurt me but mostly Max. What would Sean be like if I pissed him off? I had a feeling that the stunt Max had just pulled - involving both Maria and the principal in the incident - was not going to be appreciated by the 'alien community'. I really shouldn't make it worse by feeding into the allegations.

I shot Maria a look before saying, "There was a misunderstanding. He-"

Maria inhaled so sharply that I lost what I was saying as she sprung from her seat. "Oh, come on! You can't be serious! He almost raped you, Lizzie!"

I froze, my eyes flickering to my dad's tight frame before I hissed under my breath, " _Maria_."

"He gave you something, didn't he?" my dad asked, his voice strong and teetering on angry. It was the most emotion I'd seen from him in a long time. "Is this the sergeant's son?"

"Yes and yes," Maria answered in my place. "And not just that. He's been following Liz around for awhile now."

My dad frowned, "Why haven't you said anything earlier?"

I bit my lip, fighting the confusing emotions inside of me. I was defending something I didn't even support. Something that made me sick. "You were not feeling well, Dad. I didn't want to bother-"

My dad leaned forward in his chair and grabbed the hand that Maria had released when she had leaped from her chair. She was currently pacing the floor over by the door, looking ready to explode.

"You are _never_ a bother to me," his voice was strong and determined. "If anything were to happen to you…" He shook his head as his hand tightened around mine. I fought the scalding tears in my eyes. "You need to tell me these things."

"I know," I whispered, feeling like I was four years old, being reprimanded.

"This boy, is he dangerous?" my dad implored, his probing gaze making it impossible for me to look away.

"Of course he is," Maria interrupted, stalking up to the hospital bed and narrowing stormy eyes at me. "What did he give you?"

"I don't know," I answered evasively, while my still tired brain was trying to come up with an explanation. I was pretty sure that the drug test wouldn't reveal any drugs, which meant it was not a good idea to just make up one type of drug as an explanation. But I had to give some explanation as to why I had been so out of it when Maria, the principal and Max had 'come upon me'.

I swallowed. "It's all a blur."

My dad looked at me with cold determination. "We're gonna file a report."

I let my eyes drift closed and felt for the hum at the back of my mind.

 _What should I do, Max?_

But of course, there was no answer. It was not the first time that I wondered how he had been able to speak to me before, even at a great physical distance, and why it wasn't possible now. Now, when I needed to get our stories straight.

I opened my eyes and forced strength into my voice, "Please don't."

I felt the air around Maria vibrate with anger as I looked at my father. There was a deep line between his eyes as he met my eyes with confused annoyance.

"What?" Maria snapped. "Of course you have to report him."

I shook my head, still looking at my quiet father. "I don't want to make this into a big deal. Everyone at school-" I dropped my head and deliberately fiddled with the bed spread. "Everyone's gonna know."

"So?" Maria implored, bewilderment laced with barely restrained anger.

I looked up at my best friend, my protector and confidant, and my face flushed with the chagrin about the lies I was weaving. "It's gonna turn into this big thing. They're gonna treat me differently." I swallowed, watching Maria's anger drain out of her green eyes. "You understand, right Ria?"

I could see her fighting with herself, her eyes flickering to my father for unspoken advice.

But my father was still watching me closely, his eyes searching my face while the room was draped in a suffocating silence.

"Please," I repeated in a whispered attempt to break the silence.

"No one has to know," Maria said quietly, looking at my dad for confirmation. "Right, Mr. P? They can do these report thingies quietly."

Dad's sigh was loud and elongated as he dropped his eyes from my face and leaned back in his chair. Rubbing his hands down his face he mumbled, "These things have a way to be heard."

Maria shook her head, sighing, "Maybe this discussion is moot anyway. They probably already know, you know. I mean, the police car. And Sean in the principal's office." Maria lowered her voice as she added seriously, "You need to show them that you won't take this kind of treatment, Lizzie. You need to show them that it's not okay."

My body felt cold. So cold. Of course I needed to stand up for myself and send the message that boys couldn't treat girls like that. Because even if what Sean had done barely constituted a suspension (considering that they would end up with a negative drug test and him never actually doing anything to me), I wanted to report his ass into the next high secured prison so that he would get as far away from me as possible.

But I couldn't.

The tremble in my voice was real, even though the reason behind it was not the same as my visitors probably thought, as I mumbled brokenly, "I can't deal with this right now, Ria. I just want it to go away."

Maria stared at me silently and I could almost see the thoughts running back and forth through her head as she debated with herself.

Then my dad squeezed my hand and decided with a sigh, "Let's not make any decisions like that right now. I still think you should report him, Lizzie. He needs to pay the consequences of what he's done. But for now, you should focus on getting some rest."

"But-" Maria started, but was silenced by the look my father threw in her direction.

"Thanks, Daddy," I whispered, returning the squeeze of his hand around mine.

My heart was beating at double rate as I tried to think myself out of this situation. What was I supposed to do now?

How did I get myself out of this?

Would Sean be punished for what he had done? Would he be punished by human law or alien law? Would Sean's father cover it up? Use his military contacts? Use his alien abilities?

Plus: Didn't the aliens still believe that my memory had been erased by Max? And Sean hadn't had a chance to erase my brain after what he had put me through this afternoon, since he had been interrupted. Was I considered a loose cannon yet again? Would they come after me? Again?

I tightened my hand around my dad's and caught his eyes, "Will you stay with me, Dad?"

He looked surprised for a second, before he murmured, voicing the obvious, "Of course, Ella. I'm not going anywhere."

My heartbeat slowed down. Good. Good.

Taking a deep breath, I managed a weak smile for my dad. They wouldn't try anything as long as my dad was here, right?

"I'll stay too, babe," Maria said, her voice strong and clear.

My heart clenched, once again reminded of the fact that I was nowadays forced to lie to her on a daily basis. And she really didn't deserve it.

My smile fluttered in her direction as I said, "Thanks, Ria."


	33. THIRTY-THREE

**THIRTY-THREE**

It was in the middle of the night, just a couple of hours after I had returned home from the hospital, when Max woke me up.

He didn't scare me this time. Didn't hide in the shadows until I woke up with a scream lodged painfully in my chest from a nightmare.

This time, I awoke to the sensation of warm fingers caressing along my bare arm and the brush of lips against the shell of my ear as his dark masculine voice asked me to, "Wake up, Liz."

I groaned in protest, still predominately in the land of the sleeping, and turned my head away from his.

I vaguely heard his sigh, before I felt something touch my neck. Something soft, warm and…wet?

My eyes flew open as I realized that he had kissed my neck.

He laughed quietly behind me, whispering, "I thought that would get your attention."

I quickly turned my head, finding his beautiful face looking down at me and on reflex I licked my sleep-dried lips and assured myself that my shirt hadn't ridden up or anything like that.

"Max?" I murmured sleepily, discreetly brushing the back of my hand over my mouth, to ascertain that I didn't have any drool on my face. "What are you doing here?"

"Shhh," he hushed, an almost mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "We don't want to wake your dad." His eyes turned darker, the twinkle disappearing, as he pointedly inclined his head in question, "Do we?"

No. We didn't. I quite clearly remembered that Max had controlled my dad's brain during his last visit in my bedroom.

Before that memory could make me wish that Max wasn't standing in front of me in the middle of the night, I repeated - more softly this time, "What are you doing here?"

"We're going on a ride," Max explained calmly.

I frowned. "In the middle of the night?"

"We need to talk," Max added as a means of explanation.

"In the middle of the night?" I repeated.

He sighed and rolled his eyes and threw a pair of jeans at me. "Get dressed, Parker."

 _Had he been going through my wardrobe?_ I blushed. _How dare-_

"I'll be outside," Max interrupted my inner monologue and disappeared out the bedroom door.

* * *

"Is that all you're wearing?"

I looked down at my jeans and my thick hoodie, and frowned. "Yes?"

"Hmm," he huffed disapprovingly and opened the door to the passenger seat. "Step onboard, my lady."

"Thanks," I mumbled, still trying to chase the heavy tendrils of sleep out of my head.

The clock in the car read 1.37 as Max turned the ignition. I fastened my seatbelt and tried to make myself comfortable in my seat.

Which was easier said than done, considering the constant tension between us. A twenty minutes car ride in silence wouldn't do that tension much good.

But that was what we were up for.

My tired brain couldn't find anything to talk about, and Max didn't seem inclined to talk at all (ironic when _talking_ had been the actual reason he had pulled me out of bed in the middle of the night).

But I was never scared. Not once was I worried about where Max was taking me. Not once did I reflect on the fact that Max could do whatever he wanted with me - out in the middle of nowhere - in the pitch darkness of the night.

Not even when he pulled the car off-road, following a pair of parallel barely-there tracks into the cold and unforgiving desert, did I worry.

But I did wonder what he wanted to talk to me about, which warranted him bringing me to such a desolated place, so far away from civilization.

As the car rattled along the uneven road, I quietly mulled over the fact that Max had been the first alien to visit me that night. Considering what Sean had done to me, and that his behavior might seem suspicious to a mere human (which I was supposed to be in my state of 'recently cleanly wiped memory'), I had expected him to pay me a visit. Either at the hospital or later. To 'take care of things'. To make sure that I hadn't told my father anything. Or Maria.

But maybe Sean was actually being reprimanded. By the police, or even his own father.

Still, would they really just leave me alone after something like that?

Not that I was complaining. I was more than relieved that Max had gotten to me first.

As the car came to a stop, at the base of a lonely small cliff formation, I unbuckled my seatbelt while he moved around the car to open the door for me.

"You okay?" he asked, looking at me closely.

I nodded, idly wondering why he was asking me that. I had only been in a car with him. Did he think that he scared me? That just being around him made me nervous?

He offered me his hand and helped me out of the car. As I straightened up next to the car, he reached in behind the passenger seat and collected a rolled-up blanket.

Slamming the door shut behind him, he met my eyes and pointed to somewhere behind me. "Let's go over there."

"Max, what are we doing here?" I asked tentatively, as I fell in step behind him.

He unrolled the blanket on the sandy ground and took a step back. He didn't tell me to sit. He didn't take a seat himself.

Instead he just stood there, staring at the blanket on the ground, his hands fisting along his sides.

"Max?" I asked again and took a step towards him.

The look in his eyes as he looked up at me, stopped my advance. "We need to talk."

"Yeah," I breathed, and twinge of nervousness fluttered through me. "You already said that."

"I needed to make sure that no one heard us," Max continued.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me, as his eyes had returned to its eerie unseeing observation of the blanket. "I kinda got that." Was there really any other reason why he had brought me to the most desolated place in New Mexico?

"I know that you…" he swallowed and looked up at me, "I know that you think you have feelings for me-"

This again?

"I do-" I started, but he cut my protest off with a raised hand.

"Let me finish."

I bit my lip and nodded.

He looked guilty for a second and mumbled, "Thank you." Brushing his hands through his hair he walked a couple of steps away from me. "But I was serious about what I said before. Your feelings might just be a part of the connection."

He looked at me again; intense eyes burning through the dark night. "A connection is a very strong thing. All of us aliens can form a connection. It's not that common in human-alien relationships though."

"But the gene…" I prompted.

He nodded, "Yeah, the gene makes it possible to bond an alien with a human. But the gene mostly benefits the aliens, as you've probably started to understand. The human body doesn't seem too equipped at dealing with the aliens' energy needs."

He cleared his throat, his jaw muscles visibly clenching. "What I'm trying to say is that the connection between aliens can be likened to what humans call 'love'. It's something that brings you together, makes you want to stay with that person, protect and cherish. It makes you want to…procreate and grow old together."

I wrapped my arms around my middle, feeling the cold desert air seep though my clothes. "So you're saying that aliens don't feel love?"

He turned troubled and introspective. "Aliens don't feel much of anything. That's probably why the connection came about. Without it, we wouldn't have anything to fight for. No need to build families or communities. We would just be savages, running on primal needs for food and sex."

I swallowed, my imagination conjuring up an image of all the aliens in Roswell running around preying on and raping humans.

"That's why they weren't normal at that party," Max added quietly. "At least not normal by human standards."

"So… Michael invited me to a strictly alien party," I stated in a whisper. I had suspected that Maria and I had been the only humans at that party (judging from Max's reaction), but I hadn't been sure.

"Yes." Max's face reddened with anger. "He shouldn't have done that."

"Why did he?" I asked, seriously wanting to know. Wasn't Michael a friend of Max?

"Michael likes to shock humans. Loves to put you all ill at ease. He thrives on the power that his alienness brings him." He sounded annoyed, frustrated.

"He wanted Maria," I whispered.

Max shook his head, irritated, brushing off my insinuation of a possible infatuation on Michael's side. "A conquest."

I chilled, tightening my arms around my middle. How could Max be friends with someone like that?

As if reading me - as he seemed to have a tendency to - Max said, "He's not my friend. At least not in your sense of the word." His face turned grim as he added, "He's my protector."

"Your…?" I frowned.

"Remember that I told you that healing was a rare ability? That we held a respected position in our community?"

I nodded.

"Certain families are set out to be our protectors."

"Bodyguards?" I suggested, finding a term that was more familiar to me.

He gave me a weak smile. "Yeah."

"Then…" Irritation flowed through me. "Then why do they keep beating you up? If you are to be protected and you're considered…rare…?"

Max paused and he averted his eyes. Brushing at the sand with his sneaker, he said, "It's not like we carry some diplomatic immunity or anything. Besides, they know how to hurt someone without leaving any permanent damage."

My breaths stopped as my stomach curled with nausea. "That's sick."

"Just like you have laws, _we_ have laws." Max was still not looking at me. "If we disobey, we get punished."

"How did you disobey?"

His eyes snapped to mine meaningfully and I paled as his gaze told me the answer.

"It's because of me, isn't it?" I whispered. "They're hurting you because of me."

The pain was so overwhelming that I wanted to fold in on myself. Was the empathy and guilt I felt in that moment only based on an alien connection, like Max tried to convince me of? Not human love?

But I remained standing, keeping my tears at bay.

Maybe he was trying to ease my obvious distress, because he offered me a weak sheepish smile. "I've been breaking a lot of laws lately."

I wasn't sure if that was suppose to make me feel better about the methods of his world. "And Sean is ratting you out…?"

I knew the answer to that even before he replied, "He's the son."

"So the sergeant is like your chief of police?" My mouth was dry and there was blinding anger blazing through me.

I wanted to get my hands on that sergeant. I wanted to do serious harm to him.

If only he hadn't been male, or a lot bigger than me, or a trained military man, or an alien…

Max inhaled deeply, all signs of attempts at smiling gone. He ran his hands through his hair, his shoulders slumping forward. "I don't know what to do."

I stilled at his vulnerability. At his (completely out of the blue) acknowledgement of a lack of control.

"I can't find a solution to this." I startled as I saw the unmistakable sheen of tears in his eyes when he looked up at me, and my heart clenched in worry. I wasn't sure how to react, what to do.

"If I let you go, if I break the connection, Sean will bond with you. And his dad will let him. Healers are not supposed to bond with gaea-humans. Our military are. They are the ones that need the extra power, the extra strength. By forming a connection to you-" He shook his head in resignation. "I've broken so many laws." His jaw clenched. "You were never meant for me."

A tear rolled down my cheek at his lonely declaration.

"By the sound of it, _I_ was never meant for me," I mumbled.

Being born with that gene, I was cursed from the start. I was always destined to become a drone. A brainless slave to an alien population.

Max looked nauseous as he continued, "That's why we've been watching you all these years. Why Sean has been coming along to take your blood, to check your development. Sarge wanted Sean to familiarize himself with your brain. He wanted him to practice on erasing your mind, so that he wouldn't have any problems doing it later - when you were his." He pushed the last word out with disgust.

 _His._

"It's not just the connection," I whispered, trying to divert him away from his dark thoughts and return his attention to the claim about my feelings for him only being due to a connection. "I saw into your mind, Max. When you healed me-"

"About that-" Max tried to interrupt, but I interrupted him back.

"I know I did. And I know what I saw. Even before you healed me, you felt something for me."

He looked at me silently, his face not revealing much. But I could feel the mix of his conflicting feelings through our bond.

"What do you want me to do?" he whispered, taking a step towards me. "Do _you_ have a solution to this?"

"I-" I started, but realized that I didn't have anything to say.

Instead, Max continued, a dark, humorless smile on his lips. "Because they will never let us be together. They will either kill you or me. Or both of us."

"Why?" I cried, my frustration breaking with my fear. "We're _special_. Both of us! You're a healer and I have a fucking miracle gene! Why would they kill us?"

He closed the distance between us, and I looked up into his dark face, into his tired eyes. He brought his hand up and brushed his thumb over my wet cheek. I hadn't realized I was crying.

"Because a healer is not supposed to be with a fucking miracle," he stated quietly.

"So your big plan is- what?" I trembled, frustrated.

We were at a dead end. If we followed orders and broke the connection, Sean would be quick to sweep in and remove my future. If we disobeyed, we would either have to go into hiding or expect to get 'eliminated'.

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip as he slowly observed, "I don't know."

"Max-" I whispered, longing in my voice, as I leaned into him.

He brought his forehead down to rest against mine and he added sadly, "Either option is a death sentence for you."

I closed my eyes, trying not to break, as the conclusion I had already reached in the silence of my own mind was spoken out loud. My physical body would be killed were I to insist on sticking with Max. But my mental being would be killed if I were to connect with Sean. The only question was; Which was the less evil option of the two?

"Is there a possibility that Sean will grow tired of me?" I asked and looked up at him. "Maybe I just have to put up with him for a year or two before he grows tired of me. Finds someone more alluring, someone beautiful."

He sighed disappointedly and angled his head to brush his lips against mine. The simple way he had just kissed me - without having a reason to - made shots of electricity tickle my lips and I barely heard what he said next through the energized buzz in my head, "You really don't know how enticing you are, Ms. Parker. It's not just that gene, there's something about you. You're not just stunning and disarmingly captivating, you are pure. From the inside and out. And you fight. You fight to be yourself, not folding for anyone. Not even alien powers. You won't even let me tell you that your feelings are the result of a connection."

My whole body heated at his short monologue. I was about as good at taking compliments as he seemed to be, so my eyes dropped in embarrassment at his frank observation and I decided that the only safe route right then was to keep it light.

"What was your excuse this time?" I whispered, a teasing note in my voice.

"For what?" he mumbled, taken out of momentum.

"For kissing me."

There was a brief smile on his face, his eyes momentarily brightening. "I couldn't live another second without kissing you."

I laughed softly. "Cheesy."

"I can be really cheesy," he replied.

Though he was aiming for light and humorous, I doubted that he actually could be cheesy on a regular basis. I pictured his life as gravely restricted, both by his own race and by not being able to be himself amongst the main species occupying Earth.

"I don't believe you," I said softly.

"I didn't expect you to." He took a step back, letting the cold desert air put space between us, and I felt the change in his mood before I witnessed it on his face. "After what happened earlier today, you are no longer safe."

The almost romantic one-on-one-moment came to a screeching halt, and all the fluttering butterflies in my stomach withered up and died.


	34. THIRTY-FOUR

**THIRTY-FOUR**

"What else is new?" I mumbled, once again wrapping my arms around my middle in the search for comfort. "I'm quickly coming to terms with the fact that I've never been really safe."

Three people could fit between us right now, as he looked at me closely, the night around him darkening his facial features with crippling fear.

At least, I was pretty sure he was really scared. I could feel it in the hard throbbing of my heart and the adrenaline in my veins. His veins. Whatever. The borders between us appeared increasingly indistinct.

"I tried to soften the blow by not dealing with it on my own, when he had you in his control," Max said. "Most importantly, at that point, he could have hurt you just to spite me."

Max was referring to earlier today, when he had found Sean and I in the gym.

"You left me to get help," I realized succinctly.

"I needed humans," Max said. "He can't do anything in front of humans. There would be too many minds to erase afterwards. He would be forced to let you go. Besides…" Max smiled. He actually smiled in the light of everything. "Sergeant could use some bad rep. And if - when - it gets out that his son tried to force himself on a girl, and possibly even drugged her, it won't look too good."

I almost rolled my eyes at Max's small moment of retaliation, even though worry struck me as he basically reinforced what I had already suspected. "And Sean will get an earful from his father, I'm sure." Max nodded and I added, "My drug test was negative, by the way."

His features softened. "Of course it was. They don't test for alien mumbo jumbo."

I smiled weakly even though worry drifted through me. "So how would he - _we_ \- explain why I was so weak?"

Max inhaled, looked away and slowly shook his head. "Let them come up with an explanation. It's not our problem."

I frowned. "But it is." I put my arms around my middle. "I mean, do I report him, or what? Do your people _expect me_ to report him, because that's what a human would do…?"

He glanced back at me and answered, rather reluctantly, "Your father has already filed a report."

I froze. _Oh, no._ Why hadn't dad told me that when we had gotten home from the hospital? Because I had asked him not to report it?

"Will they do something to my dad because of it?" I whispered, barely getting the words out through the fear numbing my body.

Max met my eyes and I could sense reassurance through the connection as he said softly, "Probably not. They wouldn't involve another one." He took a deep breath and added, "It's probably for the best anyway, that your dad reported Sean. It would look suspicious without a report."

"But Sean-" I started.

"The sergeant will make this go away." He looked over towards the dark horizon and mumbled, "I can't say what that will mean for us, but-" he looked back at me, his eyes dark and bottomless, "-if you found Sean frightening before, he's gonna be worse now."

My heart skipped a beat.

"That's why I needed to get you out here, tonight. To warn you. And-," he looked down at his shoes in the sand, "-I was hoping that you might have an idea on how to solve this."

But of course, I didn't have a solution to all of this.

Instead I needed to know, "Does your father know what happened this morning?" I was hoping the answer would be 'no', but I've learned that word had a way to get around the alien community; almost faster than the Rumor Mill of Roswell High. Which was saying a lot.

Max shrugged. "Probably. I haven't been home."

I frowned. But, "Where have you been all day?"

He grimaced. "Hiding?"

"So you have no idea whether the Sergeant knows yet?"

"Oh," Max looked away uncomfortably. "He knows."

"How much does he actually know?" I asked, in general.

"He probably knows that Sean has been having trouble manipulating you. I don't think my dad has told him that I have bonded with you or told him anything about that whole erasing thing when you came over for dinner." He grimaced at the memory of me coming 'over for dinner'. It seemed like such an odd phrase to throw around when it came to the Evans' family. "If he had, I wouldn't have been healed from my last 'punishment' so soon." He sent me a wary look before continuing, "It wouldn't surprise me if the sergeant already suspects that I have a bond with you and that's why Sean's been having difficulty controlling you. He definitely knows that I saved you from the fire at your house, so he must have put two and two together and probably assumed that I've healed you."

He took a deep breath and raked his hands down his face, adding, "But he wouldn't be sure; I wouldn't have to form a connection to heal superficial injuries and no one knows how injured you really were." His eyes flickered away from mine, and I felt through the bond how uncomfortable the brush on that subject made him.

For not the first time, I wondered what I had looked like when he had taken me out of my burning childhood home. If the blisters which had erupted on my skin the days after his first healing was any indication; it had been bad. Max inhaled deeply and continued, "He knows that you saw me heal Isabel-"

"You took that memory," I whispered, thinking back to when we had been in Mr. Evans' study, and Max was supposed to erase my memory.

"I haven't done that to you before," Max said, guilt evident in his quiet voice. "And I don't intend to ever do that to you again."

"Have you done it a lot? Messed with people's minds?"

"Yours was the first I erased," he whispered.

His confession frightened me. It was like he had just confessed doing heart surgery on me without a medical degree. Had he really walked around in my mind, completely inexperienced?

"I've had a lot of practice before though," he clarified. Before I had a chance to consider the ambiguousness of that explanation (how could he have a lot of practice if he had never done it before?), he continued, "For years, I've familiarized myself with neuronal processes and the areas of the brain that store memories. I've practiced on patients at the hospital-"

My eyes widened and I was surprised to feel disappointment in the midst of my surprise. I had wanted Max to be better than that. Not preying on innocent people that couldn't even put up any resistance.

Just as quickly he contradicted my conclusion by saying, "Only unconscious patients; comatose patients. I was hoping that maybe I could - in the process - find out why they were unconscious and get them back."

I was relieved and, admittedly, in awe.

"Neither Isabel nor Michael have had any practice with mind control or erasing memories. But even if they had, I wouldn't let any of them do that to you."

I wasn't sure if I should feel flattered by this or just frankly weirded out. "Could I get those memories back? Or are they lost forever?"

"You have been getting some of your memories back - since I healed you-"

 _Since the creation of the bond…_

"- and those erasing procedures were done by mind controllers, who are a lot more skilled than I am. So anything's possible."

"Even invisibility?" I asked, offering him a small smile.

"With the help from you, yes," he said and there was that guilt in his voice again.

"That's what you meant when you said that one often could acquire abilities one normally doesn't have, when bonded with a gaea," I noted.

He nodded, but his eyes were still dark. "But I don't want to do that again."

This surprised me. "Why not?" It had been a pretty neat trick after all.

He looked at me incredulously. "Um… Because you passed out?"

"I-" I started, wanting to reassure him. It hadn't been all that bad. I had felt a hell of a lot better than after Sean had been through with me this morning.

He was tensing again and took a couple of steps further away from me. "I completely drained you. I felt like I had no other choice but to hide us. But he wouldn't leave. He just stood there. I couldn't let go of the cloak as long as he was there. Sean can be very dangerous, especially if he's trying to prove a point."

My mouth was dry. "Which would be?"

"That because of his ancestry, he can do whatever he likes with you, and I have to just stand by and watch and do nothing. He has the right to control you and I'm forbidden to intervene."

I could see how much the thought of that horrified him. How it made him tremble. And I made the snap decision to close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek against his chest.

He easily relaxed against me, resting his head on top of mine as his arms came around my shoulders.

"He won't be able to do anything he wants as long as we're connected." I probably shouldn't have said that so soon. Because as soon as I did, the moment had vanished and Max released me with a troubled sigh.

"And we keep coming back to that."

I worried my bottom lip. "I just don't understand why they can't just leave us alone. Why can't I choose you instead?"

He tiredly rubbed his forehead. "Because that's not how it works. It's like what Sean said in the gym. He's got first dibs on you. And by showing an interest in you, I've made this whole thing into the most compelling and interesting game ever. He won't ever give you up now. He'll push your limits, abuse your mind and body, maybe only because he knows that I'll be watching."

An ice cold shudder shook me. "Why?"

"Because he hates me," Max declared calmly.

"Why?" I repeated.

"Because I'm a healer. Because I'm popular at school and liked by humans. Because I objected to his methods and how he treated you."

"Treated me?" I frowned.

Max and Sean must have had a falling out way before this whole thing started up, just like Sean himself had alluded to during our 'date'.

"During the check-ups," Max said slowly. "We would disagree on how you were…" he licked his lips, seemingly considering the appropriate phrasing, "…to be handled."

My memory flashed to the dream I'd had just the other night. Of Max wanting to talk me into working with them while Sean wanted to knock me unconscious just so that he could exercise complete control over me.

Max ran a hand through his hair. "And the older you got, the more you resisted us. Well, _him_ , specifically. And this pissed him off. I guess he doesn't like to appear incompetent - especially not in front of me. It annoys him that I am to be protected just because of my heritage. I'm a real thorn in his side."

"But you're not a big fan of his either," I mumbled. There was really no question about that.

"He-" Max started, but interrupted himself, his eyes flickering to my face. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights and I got the strongest feeling that he hadn't thought before he had spoken. He had been about to reveal something that maybe I shouldn't know about.

I felt the ice spread around my heart. "What?"

Max waved his hand in the air. "Forget it."

"What were you going to say?"

"I don't want you to know," Max said honestly.

"Why?" _You've already told me so much. Why not this?_

"Because…" he hesitated. "Because it's about your mom."

All the processes in my body stilled. He didn't really have to say much more for me to realize that, "Sean hurt my mom?"

Max shook his head and stepped up to the blanket, looking like he was going to roll it up again. We hadn't even sat down yet. Apparently, Max was suddenly ready to leave.

"Tell me!" I begged, my voice breaking, before weakening in a plea, "Please, tell me."

"It won't change anything," Max whispered. "It will only hurt you."

"I'll kill him if he hurt her in any way," I promised darkly, the anger of revenge honest and hot.

His head whipped to look at me with worried trepidation and, of course, that familiar overprotective anger. The words were barely controlled as he bit out, "No, you won't."

His reaction gave me even more information. "He did, didn't he?"

"You won't go anywhere near him," Max ordered.

I raised my chin in defiance. "I won't have to. He'll obviously come straight to me."

He turned to fully face me, crossing his arms across his chest; making him appear even larger than his regular well-toned muscled self. "And you think you're gonna win that fight?"

"If you're with me, yes," I said and added as his forehead furrowed, "I've felt it. I've felt that power, the…invincibility. The night before the party-"

"When Sean paid me a friendly visit," Max said slowly, his stance relaxing in surrender.

"He hurt you, didn't he?" I asked. I had felt it. I had felt Max being under attack.

"I hurt him more," Max tried, adding lightness to the shrug of his shoulders.

"I felt you healing yourself too," I said, ignoring his attempt at brushing the whole thing off. "Because you can, right? You can heal yourself?"

"Yeah. But not if I'm too badly hurt. I won't have any energy to do it. Unless…." he swallowed. "…I'm using yours. Which I guess I did - that night."

"You should have healed yourself when I came for…um…that unexpected dinner with your parents," I whispered, wanting him to know that he could use me anytime, if he was in pain. It felt good, in a way, that I could help him. Somehow repay the debt for him healing me.

"I wasn't allowed to," Max answered. "I was healed first after that dinner, after the time of my sentence had run out."

I frowned. _Time of his sentence?_ I looked at him questioningly. "Not allowed to?"

"It was another 'run-in' with Sergeant."

I gulped. "Because of me?"

"Because Sean accused me of hiding you and intervening at the party," Max said with a poor excuse for an innocent look.

"Asshole," I mumbled, hating Sean so much right then.

And speaking of Sean…

"You haven't answered my question yet. What did he do to my mom?"

Max hesitated for another second or two, before saying, "I never realized how dangerous he was until that night. I always knew that he had something of a dictatorial frame of mind, power-hungry like few, but I never knew what he was truly capable of."

"He killed her, didn't he?" I asked, fighting to keep the trembles out of my voice. "Sean was the one who killed my mom."

"She was fighting him. Her memories were resurfacing and she was accusing him of hurting you - her daughter. She was willing to sacrifice herself, to keep you safe. She even promised to get together with Sarge again, if that's what it would take for us to leave her daughter alone. But Sean just laughed at her. I don't know what had been decided between his father and him, but Sean just announced that he was sick of her and that she had become a liability. Then he…"

Max's voice trailed off. I was staring at him, my mouth hanging open, my eyes red and my cheeks wet. He looked as pale as I felt as he glanced over at me.

He was probably about to give me more information about what had actually happened than he ended up doing, instead settling for, "Then he connected with her and two seconds later she was dead."

It was like hearing that my mother had died all over again.

"And his father didn't punish him for this?" I asked, my voice wet and unsteady from the tears. "Because he just killed a gaea? The gaea that had once belonged to him?"

"They didn't need her. She was too worn out, and becoming too aware of what was going on. It was too risky." Max looked at me closely as he added, "Plus, now they had you. You and Sean are the next generation. Your development was coming along nicely and it was only a matter of time before you'd be ready. To be used."

I took a deep shuddering breath. "What if I run away? Would they be able to find me? Witness Protection Program? Something?"

"We've infiltrated most of the government," Max answered and sighed. "Trust me, I've been over the options over and over again."

But there was something disturbing me. Something I was getting from Max through the connection. A sense that he wasn't being truly honest. I frowned, trying to dig further but not finding any clues as to what he could be withholding.

Instead, I tightened my fists, took another deep breath and stilled my tears. With quiet resolve, I said clearly, "I want you to break the connection."


	35. THIRTY-FIVE

**THIRTY-FIVE**

It was the only way to protect Max. To keep us both alive.

His head snapped to mine and in two large steps, he had grabbed me by the shoulders, his pupils large and blazing with anger. But his voice was low and even as he decided, "Hell no."

"You said so yourself, just a second ago," I whispered, my cheeks feeling oddly tight from the drying tears. "It's meant to be. I was never supposed to be yours."

"I didn't want you to agree with my options," he snapped and added with a grumble, "We'll come up with something else."

" _There is nothing else!_ " I cried in frustration. I pulled out of his grip to pull at my hair and started pacing the desert ground. "How bad can it be really? My mom was mostly left alone, wasn't she? And she lived a-" I found myself struggling to say, "-fairly long life. She would have continued doing that if Sean wouldn't have snapped. And maybe, if I just keep my mouth shut, be complacent and agreeable, and let him control me, he won't hurt me."

Max's eyes were tracing my distressing pace. Back and forth. Back and forth. "He might not hurt you. But he'll kill you. He'll kill Liz Parker."

I stopped and spun around to face him. "But you would live."

He groaned. "Don't be ridiculous. This is not some kind of romance novel. There's no such thing as sacrificing yourself for someone else-"

 _Then how do you explain all the times you've accepted abuse because you were protecting me?_

He flung his hands out to the sides with a cry of, "This is our lives! This is it. Do you really want to live it out like a puppet?"

"No!" I cried. "I really want to live it out normally. Maybe get married. Maybe have children." I kicked angrily at a stone. "Of course I don't want to be raped, mind-raped and every other kind of rape there might be in your world!"

"I'm sorry," Max gasped without warning, abruptly squashing my anger.

I looked at him as he took a deep breath, lengthening his body, every muscle in his body tensing. As if he was trying not to fall apart. Or erupt like a volcano.

I bit my bottom lip and watched him silently as he struggled to regain control over himself, my own body trembling with the aftershock of overwhelming emotions.

"Please…" I whispered as he seemed to have regained the control of his breathing at least. "Let me do this. I'm not trying to make it into a big gesture or anything. No romance novel, I promise. I'm just trying to find the best option out of two worthless miserable alternatives."

"He was sitting outside of your apartment after you returned from the hospital," Max said quietly, changing topics and once again increasing my heart rate. "That's why I didn't come to get you until so late. Once he left, I waited for another hour to make sure that he wouldn't return."

He looked over at me. "He won't wait; he's already keeping close tabs on you. He has figured out that we're connected, but he also learned today that he can get through it. Or he _thinks_ that he's the one that got through it. He doesn't know that you were the one to shut it off." He scoffed. "Because that's not even supposed to be possible for you to do." His jaw muscles rippled. "This doesn't necessarily make him any less dangerous." He swallowed, looking almost green with disgust. "And the only way he can bond with you is through sex."

"I remember," I whispered, trying not to think of the fact that I would be losing my virginity against my will. That I would perhaps never share a sexual experience with anyone else but Sean and that it might never be voluntary on my part.

Was this really my future?

I jumped as Max cried out in frustration, the scream echoing against the caves, and I felt the conflict eating away at him.

We were helpless. Backed into a corner.

I slowly wet my lips, letting the air completely remove Max's scream before I asked carefully, "So how do we do it? How do we remove the connection?"

"I can't," Max admitted, his eyes flickering with an emotion I didn't recognize. "You'll have to do it."

A wistful bittersweet smile settled on my lips as I realized that he wasn't just talking about a practical inability to remove the connection, but that he was emotionally unable to.

I walked up to him, watching his eyes turn dark with emotion as I cradled his cheek in my hand. Whispering, I said, "And you say that you don't have feelings for me."

His hand came up to cover mine and he squeezed around the back of my small hand. He was quiet. Solemn. "I never claimed that."

Right. He had only accused _me_ of not having any real feelings for _him_.

My heart hiccuped with sorrow. "And soon it won't even matter."

His gaze burned into my soul, so deeply and intimately that I imagined I could feel him in every cell of my body. A familiar fire in the pit of my belly ignited and blazed through my body with lust.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, and I knew that he could feel my desire. I knew that he could read my thoughts as our joined hands had flared the connection bright open. But he didn't comment on it.

Instead he opened the connection both ways and let me feel not only his emotions but also read his mind.

I gasped as his feelings rushed over me. His thoughts were jumbled; all over the place. He was thinking about the softness and smallness of my hand in his, of the sensation of my palm against unshaven cheek, of the tears on my cheeks, of the sacrifice I was about to make, of the things he would do to Sean if (when) he touched me (they were not pretty things), of how much he wanted to kiss me, kiss the curve of my neck, run his fingers through my hair, remove all of my clothes and forget about everything. Everything.

I pulled back, tugging my hand out of his grip.

It was too much. Too intimate. Too raw.

His mind had hinted at a love I'd never felt before. A love that went beyond any stupid connection. A love that had started years ago, ignited out of the need to protect a girl of the same age as him during nightly experiments performed by his race.

I saw how much he hated himself. How much he hated who he was. How he just wanted to be normal and human. So that he could be with whoever he wanted.

Me.

He wanted me.

In every humanly (and alien) way possible.

The ground wobbled under my feet.

He grimaced. "Too much?"

The craziness of the situation coupled with the proof of his requited love, bubbled up in me and I laughed. "A bit overwhelming, yes."

"And you're still sure?" he asked.

He wasn't playing fair, which was frustrating. First he told me the only (lousy) options available to us and when I agreed to one of them, he did what he just had done. Showed me how a future with him could be like. A future that wasn't even possible.

And he did that…why?

Dousing my irritation, I took a deep breath and - even though I didn't really understand it - I said, "I see what you're trying to do here, but this is how it has to be."

He watched me quietly and after being inside his head, I could visualize myself out of his eyes. I could see how beautiful he saw me. How brave he considered me to be, and how he would never stop watching over me. Not even when I had been handed over to someone else.

"Can I at least have the night?" he whispered and my heart stopped.

My mouth went dry and I must have looked to be in shock as I stared at him wide-eyed. Thoughts of his naked body brushing against mine were already running through my head by the time Max tensed with realization.

"I mean-" He cleared his throat. "I just want to spend time with you, okay? Nothing more needs to happen."

"Oh," I mumbled and mortification spread up my cheeks as I heard the disappointment in my own voice, betraying what I really wished that he meant.

Oh, God. I wished the earth would just swallow me up. How did I always find myself in these conversations with Max Evans?

"Let's stay for awhile," I wheezed before coughing.

I had the pleasure of glaring at him as he grinned at my obvious mortification, but I was relieved that he hadn't delivered his earlier request in the arrogant manner of the Public Max Evans.

"You look cold," he said and before I had a chance to answer, he shrugged out of his jacket.

He draped it over my shoulders. It was like a tent on me, but it was incredibly warm and smelled like Max.

"Has it something to do with your alien metabolism?" I asked curiously, unconsciously sticking my nose into the collar of the jacket and taking a deep breath.

If he had noticed, he didn't comment.

"My alien metabolism?" he inquired.

"You're always so warm."

"A steady 102.4 degrees," he answered, almost proudly.

"Oh," I mumbled, taken back. I hadn't expected there to actually be such a difference to the normal temperature of humans. "Why is that?"

He reached out and took my hand, tugging me towards him, interlocking our fingers, before pulling us down on the - now chilled - blanket.

"We have a higher metabolism and we crave extra spicy food, which heats up our bodies. Also, we use a lot more energy - which ties in with the metabolism, I guess." His eyes turned dark as he added, "Which is why humans normally can't handle too much of our pull on their energies. Our energy requirements far exceed that of humans."

His fingers were still entwined with mine as we settled cross-legged in front of each other, our knees touching.

I could hear my pulse throb in my ears; anticipated nervousness fluttering and embracing every inch of me. I was acutely aware of his presence, of his proximity.

I wondered if he was holding my hand simply because he wanted to hold my hand or if it was to keep the connection open, so that he could eavesdrop on my emotions and thoughts. I wasn't really sure how it worked; where the borders were. I understood that physical touch strengthened the connection considerably, allowing us to hear each others thoughts.

But I was pretty sure that he couldn't speak to me telepathically unless he was concentrating and looking into my eyes. With 'mere' physical touch, we were only inactive observers of the other's emotions.

Well… Max had masked himself in the connection again. I couldn't read him at the moment.

As he distractedly played with my fingers, I thought about how to go about blocking him back. It seemed highly unfair that he was able to hear my innermost speculations - particularly about him - and I wasn't privy to the same courtesy. As the thought process magnified, I saw the silent smile spread across his lips on his downturned face.

"Stop listening," I mumbled, but couldn't keep the smile out of my voice. He just smiled in return, his gaze still on our entwined hands.

At the moment, we were in a bubble. I was ignoring all of our other problems and just focusing on solving the problem of blocking Max while his fingers slowly slid back and forth over the back of my hand and the heat from his knees warmed through my jeans covering my own knees.

In blocking him from reading me, I didn't want to accidentally turn off the connection again-

"Yes, please don't," Max mumbled, and glanced up at me through his impossibly long dark eyelashes.

I rolled my eyes at him before closing my eyes and conjuring up an image in my head of a large soft red velvet curtain flowing down around my brain, hiding it.

His hand tensed in mine and my eyes flew open, the mental image of the fake curtain fixed in place.

He was looking at me curiously and wordlessly reached for my other hand, resting in my lap. Holding both of my hands in his, his look turned more intense, almost prodding.

"Is it working?" I asked breathlessly.

He couldn't read me?

"How…" he mumbled, let go off my hands and placed his hands on the sides of my neck, his thumbs curling up over my jawbone. He leaned in closer and fascinated I watched his eyes turn darker and could feel the buzz intensify.

The buzz. Which meant that I had not turned the connection off, but still managed to hide myself from him.

"You're not supposed to be able to do that," he whispered, awed. "It takes us _years_ to figure that out." He shook his head slowly. "I can't get in."

I practically smirked at him. Ha. I had mastered the alien.

"How about now?" he said softly, his eyes turning dangerously teasing as he in one swift movement leaned forward and touched his mouth to mine.

And yes. Of course. My self-control was immediately broken and my beautiful velvet curtain billowed to the ground, letting all my emotions and thoughts rush towards Max.

"There you are," he mumbled, satisfied, against my lips. But he didn't stop kissing me. This time, his kiss didn't have any means to an end. This time he wasn't trying to bring me back from dangerous fatigue syndromes. This time, he was just kissing me.

Which was a big thing in itself.

I moaned as he gently angled my head with his hands, so that he could gain full access to my mouth, his tongue brushing mine.

My fingers were in his hair, threading through it, tugging on it, as my behind restlessly lifted from the blanket and my weight shifted more onto my knees as I attempted to get closer to him.

Our positions were putting us too far apart.

Having a complete view of the inner workings of my mind again, Max let his hands slide down my neck - tantalizingly slowly. His hands worked their way inside the jacket he had put over my shoulders, to get closer to my arms, even though there was still a hoodie preventing him from touching my bare, goose-bumped skin. I could feel the trembles in his hands as he brushed up along the sides of my ribcage.

I gasped at the sensation (how could I feel it so much even through the thick material of my sweater?) and he captured my gasp with his kisses.

The heels of his hands touched the sides of my breasts as he hooked his hands into my armpits and with a smooth upward lift moved me to sit on his lap.

I sighed with satisfaction as I placed my legs around his waist and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"Better?" he asked, his one-worded question causing his lips to brush mine like a feather.

"Mm-hmm," I happily agreed and melted our lips together again.

So this was what making out felt like?

This was what it felt like to, in a synchronized soft fluid motion, taste someone's soft lips.

This was what it felt like to have someone kiss you and a deep burning heat to start to develop in the pit of your stomach.

This was what it felt like when you realized where the phrase 'making your toes curl' came from and how you heart could be 'beating out of your chest'.

This was what it felt like when you wanted someone so badly that you wanted to crawl inside of them, when you wanted them to kiss you everywhere, when you wanted to kiss _them_ everywhere.

This was what it felt like when kissing made you breathless, made your brain starved for oxygen, but you would gladly ignore the instinct for air. When it was more important for you to continue tasting him than to breathe.

This was what it felt like to be kissed by someone who you loved, someone who loved you.

He separated from my lips with a breathless gasp and we came to stare at each other, desperately inhaling oxygen, our hearts beating fast and our breaths rapid.

He leaned in, took my bottom lip between his teeth and lightly tugged. I pressed the insides of my thighs into his waist as the desire rocked me.

Pulling back, releasing my swollen lip, he mumbled, with his hands in my hair and the heels of his palms below my ears, "You make me completely lose control, Liz Parker."

A quiet and breathless laugh rolled over my lips, interrupted by the unmistakable rumbling vibrations from a mobile phone set to 'silent' against the inside of my knee, which was pressed up against his back pocket.

My eyes flew to his face, noticed him paling (because someone calling you in the middle of the night was never a good sign when you were having a secret meeting, was it?) and my heart sank as he barely seemed to notice me slide off him, to give him space to answer his phone.

He rose to his knees and fumbled for his phone, shooting a worried look on my face before he pressed the phone to his ear and stated, "Dad."

I swallowed, fear automatically gripping me, as I tried to make out the words on the other side of the line. But even in the silence of the desert night, Max didn't have the volume on the speakers loud enough for me to eavesdrop.

"Out," Max answered shortly, his hand wrapping around my knee, making my breath hitch.

I looked up at his face in surprise, but his eyes were fixed on my knee and his mind seemed 100% occupied with his father.

"I'll be home soon," Max said, sounding like the perfect impatient teenagers even though his hand tightened nervously around my knee.

Then his eyes flickered to my face and his fear was so strong through the connection that a sharp surge of adrenaline threatened to bump my heart out of my chest.

"With a friend," Max replied tensely.

Why did I get the feeling that Max's father already knew where Max was and with whom…? How could he possibly know that?

Max sighed, squeezing his eyes closed as he mumbled, "I'll leave right away."

He pulled the phone from his ear, pressed 'disconnect' and met my worried eyes.

"What did he say?" I whispered.

He shook his head, almost looking surprised at his father's obvious knowledge of his whereabouts. "I haven't been home all day, so naturally he needed to investigate." He diverted his eyes to the phone in his hand. "It was stupid. I shouldn't have stayed away. I made it seem suspicious."

Fear tightened in my stomach and I put my hand over his on my knee, squeezing it, "You can't go back. He'll…"

Max looked up, his voice devoid of emotions as he stated, "I've broken the law. With Sean. With you, tonight."

"But, he can't just-" I started, but he silenced me by pressing his index finger gently against my upper lip.

"Let's go home," he said quietly, resignation vibrating through his body and our connection.

His hand released my knee and I could do nothing but follow as he rose and started to pack up the blanket.

Our alone time was over. For now. Maybe forever.


	36. THIRTY-SIX

_A/N: Thank you for reading!_

 **THIRTY-SIX**

"What are you doing up, honey?"

I jumped, almost spilling the cup of tea I had just picked up from the kitchen counter. My heart was hammering in my chest as I fixed an easy smile on my lips before turning to face my father. "I couldn't sleep." I grimaced sympathetically as I came upon his frail shape. "You?"

He leaned against the doorway, stifling a yawn as he ruffled his hand absently through his hair. "Same." He hitched his head towards me, eyeing my winter scarf. "Cold?"

"Yeah," I answered, wrapping my hands around the hot cup. "I can't seem to get warm."

I was freezing. Ever since Max dropped me off about two hours ago.

My dad looked at me sympathetically. "Is it about that boy? Sean? And what he did?"

I absent-mindedly chewed my bottom lip before answering evasively, "It really wasn't that bad. I guess I'm just a bit rattled by it. Being at the hospital and all."

My dad knew of my aversion to hospitals and doctors, so I hoped that would satisfy his questions.

He nodded slowly and I was holding my breath as he slowly searched my face, afraid that he might find answers in my features that should best remain hidden.

The purple bruises under my father's tired eyes looked darker than ever in the sparse kitchen light as a fleeting spark of concern graced his gaze. "Are you eating okay? You seem thin."

I was momentarily surprised that he had noticed. Most of the time he seemed barely in the land of the living.

I looked at him incredulously. "You're one to talk, Daddy."

He aimed for a smile, but it was unpracticed and wobbly. "Point well made and received, daughter."

I leaned my hip against the edge of the counter, pressing my elbows into the thick cardigan I wore while trying to still my shivers and keeping my cup of tea from spilling over as I raised the warm liquid to my lips. Taking a sip, letting it slide hotly down my throat, I looked at him over the rim of my cup, "How about a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich…?", hoping that he would go for it. Even if it was just to be nice to me or to keep me company.

He really needed to eat something.

And after my rendezvous with Max, I found myself ravenous. It was the first time since Max had announced that he was going to find a way to not be connected to me that I had something resembling an appetite.

The connection still had to be broken, and my life was probably going to be hell from now on, but just knowing that Max was on my side in all of this, made it easier.

"That actually sounds delicious," my dad said and stepped into the kitchen.

"Great," I smiled, my heart feeling light. I could see a small sign of my dad, like he was before the fire. Maybe there was hope of getting him back from that deep well of sorrow.

 _Would I even be aware of my dad once Sean had gotten a hold of me?_

Would I still be me?

Would I still notice if my dad was doing okay or would I walk around in a haze, like a zombie..?

Overcome with pitch black sadness, I pulled my father into a hug as he passed by me. I pressed my cold nose into the curve of his neck and squeezed my eyes tightly closed. I noticed the surprise in the tentativeness with which he hugged me back and my arms tightened around him.

"I love you, Daddy," I whispered, swallowing back the tears.

 _Would I continue to love my father? Or would my feelings (the ones that were not mind controlled) go away?_

There were so many things I still didn't know about my recently mapped-out future. Would I only be in Sean's control when he was with me or would I be mind-controlled all the time? And if it was only part-time, would I be aware of Sean's effect on me or would I believe the lie that Sean would be feeding me?

"I love you too, honey," dad answered and returned my tight squeeze.

I felt his shoulder blades jut out though his sweatshirt and concern flared.

Who would take care of my dad once I was 'gone'?

"You feel really cold," my dad whispered, interrupting the concern-induced anxiety which was tightening my stomach. "Are you getting sick?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for leaving his embrace, and took a step back.

"I'm just tired," I answered and produced a thin smile. "Makes it difficult to maintain body temperature, I guess."

My dad lightly grabbed my chin and angled my face up to his. He looked very paternal all of the sudden, telling me to, "You have to take care of yourself."

"So do you," I whispered, my voice breaking as my dad looked guilty.

"I know," he mumbled and let go of my chin, averting his eyes. "And I'm sorry."

I hesitated, not knowing if I was overstepping some boundaries in the father-daughter relationship, before suggesting, "Maybe you should talk to someone. A grief counselor."

Dad didn't react the way I had expected. He looked perfectly comfortable with that suggestion, and I suspected that he had been considering it himself once or twice. "Yes. I think I should do that."

A real, happy, smile crept onto my lips and I tied the scarf closer around my neck to fight of the chills as I turned towards the pantry. "Let's make ourselves something to eat."

"Sounds great," dad replied and sank down on a kitchen chair.

* * *

My ribs were aching, my head was pounding, my abdomen felt sore and I could have sworn my jaw was in the wrong position.

By now, I knew what this meant. I just didn't want to face it.

I didn't want to believe that Max had dropped me off in the early morning hours, only to return home and get abused (even though he had alluded to that exact grim future just after having spoken to his father).

And it was because of me. He was hurting now because of me.

I hadn't felt the actual abuse, only the injuries slowly blooming out over my body. They had followed the chill, the chill which had slowly been freezing me to the core, even when I was wearing five layers of clothing, a beanie, a scarf and mittens.

And now I was sitting on the side of my bed, my knees bopping restlessly up and down, my arms wrapped tightly around my middle to preserve heat, trying to figure out what to do.

I looked at the clock on my bedside table. 4.11 a.m. Only one minute had passed since I last looked at it.

I was supposed to stay away from Max. I was supposed to break the connection to him. Tonight. As he had dropped me off outside of my apartment, Max had informed me quietly, "Try and break the connection tonight. Sean won't waste any time and I don't want him to find out that the connection he thought he broke through in the gym is back in place."

Obviously, I hadn't broken the connection yet. Otherwise I wouldn't be feeling everything he was feeling right now.

Max was scared and in pain. I was pretty sure I was only feeling a small fraction of it. Most prevalent to me was the cold. Was he outside? Because the cold must be coming from him. There was no other reason why I couldn't get warm.

I wasn't ready to break the connection yet. I had planned on not doing so until Sean was actually standing in front of me - wanting to force entry into my mind. I wanted to wait until the last possible second before I lost Max's presence from my mind.

I looked over at the clock. Still 4.11 a.m.

My gaze trailed to my cell phone, lying quiet next to the clock.

I hesitated, digging my fingers into the multiple layers of clothing, ignoring the pain from my ribs at the increased pressure and decided to count to ten.

One.

I needed to stay away.

Two.

We had decided. We had decided together.

Three.

Sean was my future. I had to forget about Max.

Four.

He was only one of my classmates now.

Five.

I was going to desperately miss him.

Six.

Would I be able to survive without Max? Even with Sean's dominance over my mind?

Seven.

I glanced at the clock again. 4.12 a.m.

Eight.

I bit my bottom lip and remembered how Max had bit it too.

I abruptly reached for my cell phone.

 _Fuck this._

I found his number in my contacts, dialed and waited for an answer.

"Liz?" There was clear surprise in his tired and sluggish voice. Apparently, I had woken him up.

"Hey," I mumbled, highly aware of the nervous rhythm of my heartbeat. "Sorry for waking you."

"What's up, Liz?" he asked, sidestepping all the polite chit-chat, his voice serious and worried.

"I need your help," I declared simply, hoping that he wouldn't hang up.

He groaned. "Last time you asked for my help, you wouldn't speak to me for a week."

"I know. I'll explain everything later."

"I think I'm quite well-aware of the reason behind your silence," he said quietly.

Of course he was. He was an alien, after all. They seemed to know everything. And he probably knew that I had figured him out. That he was not my long-time _human_ friend any longer.

I briefly wondered how much he knew about the situation. Did he know that my mind had supposedly been erased just hours post figuring out that he was an alien? Either he didn't (otherwise he wouldn't have alluded to something I should no longer have any knowledge of) or he had been let in on the secret that Max had faked the wipe of my mind.

But why would Max tell Alex about it?

No, Alex probably just didn't know that I was supposed to be oblivious. So I settled for a mumbled, "Right."

"But I'm glad you called," he hinted with a hopeful lightness to his confession.

"I'm not ready-" I started hurriedly, because I wanted him to know - in the nicest way possible - that I might not be ready to forgive and forget yet. That I only needed him right now because he might just be the only one that could help me.

Alex saved me from turning the conversation into a circus of awkwardness. "How can I help you, Liz?"

"I…" I trailed off and glanced at the clock. 4.14 a.m. Pain was slowly spreading across my right eye and I knew that this was the right thing to do. I licked my lips and blurted out, "I need your help breaking into Max Evans' house."


	37. THIRTY-SEVEN

**THIRTY-SEVEN**

"You won't find him in here."

I jumped, stifling a cry as Alex gasped next to me. We simultaneously turned in the direction of Max's bedroom door, towards the voice, wearing the guilty expressions of the intruders that we were.

Isabel was casually leaning against the doorframe, wearing a somewhat amused expression. She raised one well-plucked eyebrow at Alex and stated simply, "Alex."

"Isabel," Alex confirmed next to me.

"So," Isabel said suavely, looking at me, "Breaking and entering, huh?" She put her head to the side, her eyes turning incredulous. "What's it going to take for you to back off, Liz?"

I opened my mouth to answer, my heart beating harshly in my ribcage, but Isabel simply raised her hand in a 'Quiet, please'-gesture and looked at Alex. "And you… Helping her?" She pursed her lips. "Let me guess; you're trying to get on her good side again?"

Pushing off the doorframe, a delicate frown settled in the porcelain skin of Isabel's forehead, and she stepped into the room.

"I didn't know she meant so much to you, Whitman," she mused. Shaking her head with a disapproving clicking of her tongue, she added, "Risking your well-being like this. For a human."

I froze. She knew. Isabel knew that I knew. She obviously didn't have any trouble insinuating that neither she nor Alex were quite human in front of me.

Maybe it had been foolish of me to assume that my discoveries had been kept secret. Had Max told Isabel? Were they close? Did they talk about these kind of things?

But most importantly; was Isabel's knowing going to be a good or bad thing for my situation?

"I'm surprised you still trust him," Isabel said, obviously addressing me, but keeping her eyes on Alex.

It was as if I was not in the room. Whatever was going on was between Isabel and Alex. I could feel it in the vibrations in the room, the way the air wobbled around us.

"I mean," Isabel said slowly, stopping right in front of Alex. Isabel was fairly tall for a girl, which meant that Alex was one of the few guys I had seen actually rise above her height. She placed a dark red painted nail to his lower lip, her eyes drawn to the location of that finger while Alex stared back at her silently.

"How would you know that he is good…" a slow smile spread across her full lips as she looked up and met Alex's stare, "…or bad?"

I felt a blush spread across my cheeks, locally warming my cold face, and watched the same thing happen to Alex's face.

Isabel ran her tongue slowly over her bottom lip as she pressed down on his lip with her finger, making it press downwards until she released it and it plopped back into place.

I gasped as strong desire whipped through me and Isabel's soft laughter was like an abrupt cold shower.

"Has he told you of his ability yet?" Isabel asked and turned her head to look at me with curiosity.

I numbly shook my head, desire rippling through me while at the same time (oddly enough) I felt like grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and teaching her a thing or two about playing with my emotions.

"You're probably feeling the effects right now," Isabel said, her smile white against her slightly rosy cheeks. She looked as flustered as I felt. "At least, I can."

Huh?

Isabel looked back at Alex and her voice turned almost condescending, as if she was speaking to a child, "Alex doesn't have that much control over his powers yet."

"What is it?" I whispered, my eyes flickering between Isabel and Alex. "Is it another mind control?"

Was I being fooled into seeing what I was seeing? But it didn't feel the same way as when Sean was controlling me. I felt perfectly like myself.

Well, apart from the icy cold that had settled into my bones, the phantom pain from injuries across my body and the inexplicable longing to have sex with Isabel.

My eyes widened and I whipped my head to Alex. Wait…

Isabel laughed. Probably at my expression. "Yeah, that's right. Alex here is an empath. He can regulate emotions of the people around him. If he's not careful, he'll also project his own feelings to people around him. Like now."

A strong sense of discomfort and embarrassment hit me (Alex's feelings) and I softened with sympathy for my friend. It all made sense. Why I had always felt so comfortable in Alex's company. He had regulated my feelings. My first reaction was to feel used and hurt, but rather quickly the rational side of me decided that Alex's ability seemed to be one of the nice ones. Like Max's.

Not like Sean's. And, relatively speaking, that was a good thing.

"Where's Max?" I asked and I could tell that my sudden change of topic had surprised Isabel.

Isabel sighed and put some space between her and Alex. "You really should go home, Liz."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm not leaving. He's somewhere in this house."

"Alex didn't tell you?" Isabel asked, a touch of smugness in her question.

I narrowed my eyes at her before glancing at Alex. Isabel was trying to play on the fresh insecurities that were already between Alex and I. But I needed Alex right now. I needed to trust him on this. I didn't know Isabel. Didn't know if _she_ was one of the good guys or not - as she herself had put it.

"Alex helped me get into Max's room, because we both assumed that he was in here. I didn't think he would be somewhere else this early in the morning." My voice was tense. I was getting fed up with this. Max could be hurt somewhere while we were just standing around. Flirting. Well, I was watching Isabel flirt with Alex.

Isabel looked at me for two long seconds before she sighed in resignation. "Fine." Turning around, she moved her arm behind her in a 'Come along'-gesture and walked out the room. Expecting us to follow.

I glanced at Alex.

He read my face and whispered, "We can trust her."

I swallowed, wondering if he was affecting my mood right then and if that was the reason why I was so easily reassured by his declaration and found myself moving towards the door.

Isabel was waiting for her outside. She looked at us with impatience before quickly scanning the surroundings. As I had seen Max do so many times before. I distractedly wondered if paranoia was sprinkled on top of their breakfast cereal growing up.

"Be quiet," she ordered, before turning around and walking down the corridor.

On reflex, I grabbed Alex's hand to still my trembling nerves and together we followed Isabel down the stairs to the first floor, only to proceed by taking the stairs to the basement.

Of course, since this was a mansion, the basement wasn't the regular dark and musty level as it was in many houses. This basement consisted of large rooms off to the sides of a well-lit hallway. It was nicely decorated and gave a very homey impression.

Still, I found myself drawing closer to Alex as we walked down the hallway. There was a chill in the air. A chill that resonated with the chill deep within my bones.

Isabel lead us all the way to the end of the hallway, to a closed wooden door. She turned around, a hesitant look on her face as Alex and I looked at her silently.

Inhaling deeply, she addressed me evenly, "I would have lent you a jacket or something, but for some reason you seem to already be wearing a ridiculous amount of clothing, so…"

I frowned. "Why would I need a jacket?"

Isabel's eyes flickered to Alex, which had me also looking at Alex. His face was blank, avoiding my eyes.

"Liz. This is your opportunity to turn around. Alex will take you home." I looked back at Isabel's serious face, felt the pulsating pain in my abdomen and for the first time I acknowledged that the buzz of Max's presence at the back of my head was loud.

Max was close.

"He's behind that door, isn't he?" I asked Isabel.

Instead of answering my question, Isabel asked slowly, "Are you sure about this?", her eyes firmly trained on my face.

I was as certain as my voice was firm, "Open the door, Isabel."

Isabel looked at me closely for a second, before shrugging. "It's your funeral."

A shiver ran through me at her choice of words, wondering how true it actually was. Suddenly I was very afraid of what I would find on the other side of that door.

Isabel opened a small cabinet next to the door, revealing a keypad, and entered a code while shielding the keys she was hitting behind her hand.

There was a noticeable click from the door and Isabel closed the door to the cabinet before pressing down on the door handle.

Cold air swept towards me and I had time to register that the door was actually a metal door, with a deceiving wooden panel on the outside, before I saw his shape at the far end of the room.

My chest tightened as adrenaline mixed with concern, anger and fear simultaneously exploded inside of me. The sounds around me turned muffled until I heard only the sound of my own pounding heart in my ears as I practically ran across the white tiled floor towards him.

I fell to my knees, sliding across the ice-cold floor for a feet or two - my body propelled by my speed - and brought my hands to his face.

Tears were already blurring my vision and my hands were shaking as I brushed them through his hair, down his bare shoulders and his chilled arms.

I vaguely registered that he was basically naked, wearing only a pair of boxers, curled up in a tight fetal position on his side, with a whiteness to his cold skin and a blue tint to his lips.

"Max? Max?" My voice was frantic, my thumbs brushing across his closed eyelids, and I might have thought he was dead if it hadn't been for the mental presence of his mind at the back of my own.

I whipped my head towards the door, where Isabel was silently observing us with an unreadable expression. "Help him! He's freezing!"

"This is his punishment," Isabel said quietly. "It's the law."

 _The law?_

Anger was blazing through my heart and I snapped my head back to Max's prone body.

"Max?" I breathed, a tear sliding down my face.

His voice was faint, his eyes still closed, as he mumbled, "Liz?"

I sagged at his voice, bending down to press my face into the cold nook of his neck. I placed a quivering kiss against his skin before whispering, "What are they doing to you?"

"No," he whispered and I felt him move. "You can't be here."

I pulled back and watched his lips start to tremble with the return to consciousness, shivering in response to the cold.

"Get him some clothes," I demanded without looking at the two aliens that were standing - just standing and watching - over by the door. "Now!"

"We can't do that," Isabel replied with remorse in her voice.

I turned to look at Alex, burrowing my eyes through his head. He shifted uncomfortably, scratching behind his ear.

"Alex…" My voice was a promised warning. If he didn't-

"It's the law," Alex said, echoing Isabel's excuse.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to control my anger and frustration.

Why are they not helping? How could they just stand there?

 _Monsters. They're all monsters._

"Leave, Liz. Please."

I whipped my head back to Max, finding his eyes looking up at me. But they were not the same warm brown hue, glinting with fire and sometimes mischief. These eyes were watered out, bland and lifeless.

Had they done this to him every time? First beaten him up and then thrown him in here? Was this common practice?

My whole body was tightening and I felt like jumping to my feet, crossing the room and strangling the life out of Isabel Evans if she didn't help me help Max.

But I couldn't get myself to leave his side. Instead, I shrugged out of the jacket and the cardigan I wore. They were too small for him to wear, but I placed them over his trembling shoulders, hoping they would give him some warmth.

I pulled the beanie off my head and gently pulled it down over his hair, down over his ears.

The look in his eyes as he was watching me unsuccessfully dress him was tearing me apart. "Iz, get her out of here. Before dad-"

"I'm not leaving," I grumbled, getting annoyed with him. I got that he was afraid of what his father would do were he to find me here. But I honestly didn't care. Not as long as Max was isolated in a bright white tiled room at chilling degrees wearing nothing but his underwear.

"We should leave," Alex said.

"You've seen him now," Isabel reinforced. "It's time to leave."

I ignored them, instead laying down on my side so that I was facing Max. I don't know if he was trying to fight me or push me away, but he didn't seem to have the energy to do either as I positioned my head on his arm - the one closest to the floor - and pushed the front of my body up against the front of his, pulling his other arm down in the curve of my waist.

I slung my uppermost positioned leg over his thigh and scooted my lower body up against his. I ignored the feel of his body against mine, of the hardness of the muscles underneath that chilled skin, and wrapped my arms tightly around his shoulders.

I was trying to, the best way I could with my slight frame, wrap him up in my body heat.

The cold from the floor and the chill from his normally really warm body, was already seeping through my layers of clothing and I tried to resist the temptation of my jaw to shake.

Instead I focused on the connection, trying to reach him through it. I had presumed that his defenses would be down, that I would be hearing his thoughts and feeling his every emotion. But I could feel the weakness of his mind, could feel him circling in and out of consciousness.

"Alex, you need to take her out of here," I heard Isabel say.

"You obviously don't know Liz as well as I do," Alex grumbled in reply. "You don't get her to do anything she doesn't want to."

"So we should just leave her here? On the floor? With Max? And wait for my father to check in and see what he will do?"

"You're just protecting your own skin. Afraid that you'll get punished for taking her here?"

I could hear the smirk in Alex's voice and I briefly considered how Alex never had as much as glanced at Isabel during our upbringing, but how Isabel and Alex were now talking as if they'd known each other for years. And they probably had. Just not officially.

I ran my fingers up Max's cold bicep, over his shoulder, and up the side of his neck, watching the goosebumps form in the trail of my fingers before I buried my hand in his hair. I loved his hair. It was so soft. Gently letting my fingers massage his scalp, I scooted even closer and pressed my lips softly to his closed eyelid, brushing against the painful blackness surrounding his eye.

A trembling sigh floated from his mouth and I felt a boost of fire through my body.

"No," Isabel answered Alex with a snap. "But she's interfering. And you know as well as I do that she's not protected here. She's breaking the law now, too."

"And what kind of law is that?" I whispered, but my voice was clear enough to cut through ice. The question sliced through the chill of the room and made Alex shift uncomfortably and Isabel tense.

" _Our_ law," Isabel stated.

"Alien law?" I asked, my thumb brushing over Max's eyebrows, down across his closed eyes and his dark long eyelashes. I never had a chance to get this close when he was alert. I had never felt brave enough to adore his features with my fingers before.

"Yes," Isabel confirmed.

"Don't you have human- I mean, _alien_ rights? Or at least, _your_ equivalent of _humane_?"

"This is our way of punishing individuals that do not follow the rules," Isabel replied, her voice rigid. "You have your jails and prisons; for obvious reasons we can't have anything as public as that. So everyone has to build a room like this, which can serve as a pool room or home cinema under normal circumstances, but which are used to restrain our own when they break the law. It's nothing different from what you humans are doing."

"We don't torture our criminals," I bit out, my leg tightening around Max's hip and a weak wave of heat flowed through my body, ignited by Max.

"You did, not too long ago."

"So, you're doing it the medieval way in the 21st century?" I asked tightly. "How visionary. I would have thought - since you were advanced enough to travel through space and successfully inhabit another planet - that you would be more advanced than that."

There was a moment of silence, before Isabel answered coldly, "You think you know so much about us, just because Max has told you a thing or two? Huh? You know nothing about us." Her voice rose, "Nothing!"

I pressed my face into the hollow between his chin and the top of his chest, my silent tears wetting his numbed skin and I doubted that they could hear me as I said, "How long will he be in here?"

But Isabel heard me. "In total; 24 hours."

"On whose order? Your father's?"

"No. Of course not." She had the audacity to sound offended. "This is ordered by the sergeant. No one else is allowed to make the decisions."

My chest trembled with my strained breath. "He's the judge too?" Before Isabel could answer, I bit out, "So this is a dictatorship?"

"No," I could tell that Isabel was getting annoyed. Angry even. "But he is in charge with upholding the law."

"And what is Max's crime?" I had a suspicion about the answer, but I needed her to tell me.

Isabel's laugh was short and bitter. "Why don't you tell us? You were there."

"Liz, we really should be going," Alex interrupted, sounding antsy and worried.

I pressed myself closer to Max, ignoring that I was now myself terribly cold and shivering.

"Max accused Sean of trying to rape you. Of either getting you drunk, drugging you or both, to make you defenseless. Max made the whole thing very public by dragging both Maria DeLuca and the principal into it."

I inhaled deeply against the sudden guilt as Isabel confirmed my hunches. Damn it.

"Let's just say that turning against your own and hanging them out to the humans, is very much frowned upon within our community."

My eyes fell on the small area of bruising over Max's left shoulder, the blackness around his eye and the dried blood to the abrasion on his cheek. My body was trembling, not only with cold but with concern for him. If I had been stronger, if only I had been bigger, I would have carried him out of here - damn the consequences.

"He did it to save me," I mumbled sadly, trying to rein in my tears.

I heard someone cross the floor and felt the heat from that body as it stopped next to the coiled up shapes of Max and I.

"I know," Isabel said softly and crouched down behind my back. I flinched as she put a hand on my hip. "But they don't care about that." I felt heat flow into my hip, into my body, and I realized that she was trying to heat me up. "What Max did was serious. He has jeopardized our cover, jeopardized the sergeant's position and reputation."

My heart skipped a beat in anger as the heat from her hand continued to flow into my hip, and I looked up at her perfect face with burning eyes. "Why don't you heat up your brother instead of me?!"

She grimaced sadly, glancing at her barely conscious brother. "Because I'm not allowed to." She paused and licked her lips. "But _you_ are. You're not restricted by alien law."

I frowned. Was she suggesting that I should transfer the heat that she was giving me to Max?

"Don't look so shocked," Isabel said. "I know that you're connected. You're probably already giving him heat, that's why you are getting colder so quickly."

My mouth went dry as I stuttered, "How?" and looked at Max's pale face.

Out of the corner of my eye, Isabel shrugged. "I've never been connected to anyone, so I don't know the details."

How could I feed him energy? I needed to help him. It was, after all, my fault that he was in this situation. I pulled on my memories of how he usually connected to me. Of how he looked into my eyes, cradled my face with his (usually) warm hands…

But Max's eyes were closed and I could tell from the faint buzz of our constant bond that his semi-conscious state wouldn't allow me to contact him through mere eye contact.

"You know what to do," Isabel whispered. "And once you've done it; you need to leave."

I looked at her, feeling a sudden kinship to Max's sister. She had finally understood that I wouldn't leave Max's side until I had made sure that I had helped him in some way, that he was feeling better. She had finally realized that she couldn't force me to leave.

"Okay?" Isabel asked.

"Yes," I whispered and took a deep breath, suddenly knowing what to do.

I shut out the surroundings, blurred out Isabel's curious eyes and Alex's presence by the door, and leaned in.

We were alone now.

I kept my eyes open as I, for the first time, instigated the fusion of our lips. His were cold against my warm ones, but the contrast only heightened the (always) overwhelming sensation of kissing him.

I was aware of the pulsating flow of heat through my hip, originally supplied by Isabel, as I gently coaxed Max back into awareness with a soft slow nibbling of his lips.

Our bond fluttered and an invisible line formed from my hip, along the length of my upper body, to the place where my lips were fused with his.

His feelings were coming alive in my mind, his consciousness waking up as he started to reciprocate my kiss. I could feel his confusion blend with fear, in the midst of an incredibly warm sensation. Gratitude. And love.

Then the arm that I had positioned in the curve of my waist flexed, flushing my body with his as his hand moved up the back of my neck and buried itself in my hair as he pressed my head closer, deepening the kiss.

Desire was awakening, curling my cold toes, flowing deliciously up my legs and settling hotly in my core as I felt his strong demanding presence return.

My fingers ran down the side of his face and, as if in response, his eyes snapped open. My heart faltered before I fell.

I gasped as heat brushed through my body, sparked at my lips, and left my body with something akin to a pulling force. His eyes widened, but he didn't stop kissing me.

It was something fascinating to watch and feel the emotions in his eyes while he gently met my lips. Over and over again.

A comforting sleepiness and daze was washing over me, making me want to curl up even closer (but that wasn't possible; we were as close to each other that was physically possible) and go to sleep.

As soon as that feeling came over me, Max pulled away.

"Enough," he whispered thinly, his voice a very weak replica of his normal strength.

I felt him pushing at the connection, forcing me away, closing himself off as a chilliness spread through my body.

"No," I protested, my hand tugging at the hair at the base of his neck. "You need more."

He sighed, deep concern in the eyes that were more alive now than before. "Leave."

He was going to be here for more than 20 hours. He needed more. "No-"

"Iz," Max interrupted, and even though his voice was barely there in strength, he still managed to sound authoritative. Naturally, I was made aware of the fact that we were not alone. Something I had tried very hard to make myself forget.

"Alex," Isabel said in response, calling to the attention of the guy at the door.

"Before dad comes to check on me," Max continued and coughed.

I pressed my body against his, melting my hand against his bloodied cheek, and whispered with my eyes strongly locked with his, "No. You need more."

His face softened and his fingers in my hair curled tenderly against the back of my head. A small smile settled on his lips and he whispered, "Yes." I bit my lip, unconsciously attracting his eyes. Those eyes darkened with a familiar emotion as he added, "But even more, I need you to be safe." He coughed again and I shuddered at his weakness. "And you're not safe here."

Alex's hand closed around my upper arm. His touch was warm even through my multiple layers of clothing. "Liz. It's time to go."

My eyes were still on Max as he mumbled, "Break the connection."

"Not yet," I whispered back, a tear tumbling down my cheek.

Grief so intense and bright that it abruptly sliced through me flashed in his eyes before he closed them and pressed his lips to mine in a gentle caress. Pulling back, he caught my eyes again, let his hand flutter down my spine before he removed it from my body.

I shivered at the coldness and tightened my leg across his thigh in response, displaying my reluctance at his withdrawal.

"As long as it's before Sean notices it," Max compromised, letting me keep the connection for as long as the Gods of fate would allow.

Alex's hand around my arm tightened. "Liz?"

"Go," Max whispered and pressed his lips to my forehead.

I sighed, tightening my embrace, before scooting my stiff body away from his. Alex bent to help me to my feet as Isabel's warm presence took my other arm and helped me regain my balance.

My chest was tight with anxiety, worry, fear and deep grief as I looked down at his naked shape on the floor. He was shivering again, his skin turning gradually whiter almost in front of my eyes, and his eyes were already closed.

I felt the buzz at the back of my head diminishing and my frustration grew along with it. Had my energy helped him at all? It didn't even seem to last.

"He'll be fine," Isabel said next to me, taking my hand. I let her hold it, feeling like I was about to crumble.

"Once his punishment is over, he'll be healed," Alex explained.

I fought my tears as Isabel, still holding on to my hand, bent down and picked up my jacket and cardigan and gently pulled my beanie off Max's head. She silently bundled up the articles of clothing under her arm and I felt her questioning look on the side of my face.

"We need to leave," Alex mumbled. "Now."

I swallowed and nodded. With one final look at Max, I let the aliens turn me around and walk me out of the freezing room.


	38. THIRTY-EIGHT

_dootadoot and brokenbride - Thank you so much for the feedback! :-)_

 **THIRTY-EIGHT**

The next 18 hours would turn out to be the coldest of my existence. Not just because of the coldness I was indirectly experiencing through Max, but because of the guilt and the self-condemnation which was drowning me.

He was being tortured. Because of me. Because I had put myself in harm's way, leaving Max no other option but to intentionally break the laws of his alien community in order to save me.

I think this was the worst of his punishments. Earlier, he had 'only' been beaten. I had never felt the cold before, which made me fairly certain that this was a worse form of penance. Maybe they were getting fed up with Max breaking their rules. They obviously thought that the reprimands were not working, since he kept on repeating his 'mistakes'.

Or maybe it was because the crime had been more serious this time. What had Isabel said? That Max had jeopardized the secrecy of their community? But whatever the crime, did it justify torture?

Even under the weight of my comforter, three blankets, and four layers of clothing, I couldn't get warm and didn't get any sleep. There was no reason for me to go to school that morning. I would look ridiculous wearing so much clothing in the warm New Mexico air. That alone would most likely attract a lot of unwanted attention and raise questions I didn't feel like answering.

So, during the hours that Max was enduring his punishment and I was indirectly suffering along with him (stubbornly refusing to break the connection, even though it would obviously make my own existence much more pleasant), I made sure that all my windows were locked and checked the front door about twenty-three times. I busied myself with making my dad peanut-butter-and-jelly-sandwiches and curled up next to him on the couch in front of daytime television, cradling cups of steaming hot tea in my cold hands.

My dad didn't comment on me wearing winter clothing inside, or remark on the mittens I occasionally donned or the beanie that was flattening my hair. I think, in a way, he was just happy that I was spending the day with him.

As the day ran into the afternoon, Alex called.

He sounded relieved when I connected the call. "Oh good. You answered."

I squeezed my eyes closed at the implications of that relief, knowing that my evasive behavior since I had found out that he was not entirely human was a big reason as to why he was still wary around me.

"Of course, Alex," I said softly. _You helped me find Max yesterday._

"Yeah." He managed to bake both guilt and insecurity into that one word. "I just wasn't sure, you know."

"I wouldn't have called you yesterday if I didn't trust you," I said quietly, closing the door to my room, climbing onto my unmade bed, ignoring the indirect pain in my abdomen, and settling in a cross-legged position as I balanced the phone between my ear and shoulder.

"We didn't really have a chance to talk before, because of the whole Max drama," Alex said with an air of apology, "but I assume that you're okay with me not being…entirely…"

"Human?" I filled in with incredulity.

"Yeah," he exhaled.

"That was never the issue," I said seriously, considered for a moment how honest I should be, before continuing, "You are one of my closest friends, Alex, and you never told me."

I almost heard him swallow on the other end of the line and his voice was barely audible as he said, "I know."

"I mean," I continued, being uncomfortable with his silence and not really feeling up to putting him too much on the spot, "I understand that it's, in a way, not really your secret to tell and that it's a really freaking big thing, but I would've kept your secret. I thought you knew me well enough to know that. It just hurts that you assumed that you couldn't share that with me."

"There was not really any need to. Knowing would only cause fear and pain. I didn't want to risk losing you as a friend." He paused and I waited him out. "Of course I trusted- _trust_ you, Liz. You're probably the most reliable and loyal person I know. But with this, I couldn't just be 100% sure that you were, I had to be 110% sure - at least. Because if you were to run, I needed to be able to stop you-"

"And erase my mind of whatever information you had just shared," I filled in grimly. It all came down to that.

Mind control. Damage control.

"Right," his voice matched the darkness in mine, "And I don't know how to do that." There was a brief pause before he continued, "I needed to keep you safe, and _not_ including you was the safest way I could find. Even if you _had_ accepted what I told you, there was the risk of anyone finding out that you knew - immediately putting you in harm's way."

I scoffed. "That's a moot point now."

"Yeah," Alex said softly. "Max told me a thing or two."

There was that hint again. That Max was sharing information about me and him. "Max talked to you?"

 _Max trusted Alex?_

"He's filled me in on some things, yes."

"Why?" I blurted, before I could stop myself. As far as I knew, Alex and Max were not friends. They were not in any 'sharing'-type of relationship at all.

Alex cleared his throat nervously and trepidation immediately squeezed at my throat. What was this? Why was he nervous all of the sudden? What was he about to tell me?

"What, Alex?" my voice whispered and it barely carried over the phone.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but…"

"What?" I repeated anxiously as his voice trailed of.

"Because you really are one of my best friends and I love you for you, not just-"

My suddenly sweaty hand clenched tightly around the phone. "Stop beating around the bush, Alex!"

There was a beat before Alex blurted out, "I'm your protector, okay?"

I blinked and all energy left my body. I suddenly felt bone-tired in the midst of the chill I was getting from Max through the connection.

When my response went missing, Alex continued, "We all have different tasks. My family consists of strategic protectors. We were originally meant to assist the military, but when my ancestors arrived on Earth and gaeas were discovered, it was decided that some of the strategic protectors would assume the role of protecting the gaeas."

My mind was empty except for two sentences which kept bouncing back and forth; Max has a bodyguard. I have a bodyguard. Max has a bodyguard. _I_ have a bodyguard.

Interesting how he had never been around lately when I had been in danger. Max had been saving me then, not my supposed _protector_. But I didn't have the heart to point that out to him, even if I was not feeling the warmest feelings towards him right now.

When I still didn't say anything, there was strong hesitation in Alex's voice as he said, "My family was assigned to you when you were six years old and it was decided - since we were the same age - that I would befriend you."

I bit my lip against the tears. Not only had he been telling me a lie all of these years, he had not become my friend because he wanted to. He had been _assigned_.

"Please say something," Alex pleaded quietly and I stared unseeingly into the opposite wall for another couple of seconds before I felt confident that I would be able to control my voice.

"I'm your assignment?" There was a cold detachment to my voice that I had never heard from myself before.

"No," Alex said. "You're my _friend_. At least, I hope I still am."

"So," I swallowed, "What have you been doing all these years as my _protector_ , Alex? Preventing me from falling out of tree houses and warding off unwanted attention from boys?"

My voice was acidic, but I couldn't help it. I felt betrayed at every possible level.

"My first assignment was to befriend you," Alex said in a low tone. "I haven't gotten a new assignment since then. So my running assignment is still to be your friend."

"Well," I said, my voice as chilled as my body, "I'm relieving you from your assignment."

"Don't be like that," Alex whispered brokenly and I felt my heart crack. I didn't want to hurt him. Even if our friendship had been appointed to him, that same manufactured friendship had been _real to me._

It felt as if he had just died. The Alex I knew was gone.

"I was afraid you would see it like that," Alex said hurriedly, probably afraid that I was going to hang up on him. But I wanted him to show me a different truth than the bleak one my tarnished heart was painting, so I spasmodically held onto the phone hoping that he was going to convince me of a brighter reality.

"But I was just a kid when we became friends. I didn't even understand this whole task I was supposed to carry out. I just went with it. My parents told me to become your friend, so I did." He paused, breathed, and said with emphasis, "For real."

I wanted to believe that. I desperately wanted to believe that. I didn't want to lose him. I needed to believe that all of our experiences growing up - all the fun we'd had - had been real.

I found myself unable to carry on the topic, instead choosing to drift off it - for the moment - while my mind tried to sort through the information. "So what exactly is your role as my protector?"

"What the word implies; I'm supposed to protect you."

"Protecting the valuable merchandise, huh?" I asked cynically.

I could almost see the wince on his face as he reluctantly agreed, "Something like that."

"So when you agreed to help me find Max yesterday, you didn't do it as my friend but to be able to keep me safe?"

"I did it as your friend _and_ to keep you safe," Alex reiterated.

Resignation weakened me and I barely got out, "I want to believe that. I really do."

"Don't shut me out. Please. I don't care what punishment I will receive for failing my assignment - that's not why I'm asking you to remain in my life. I can't lose you as a friend. Please."

My body had gone into some type of paralysis from the shock at his words. "They'll punish you if I shut you out?"

There was a deafening pause before he said, "Probably."

Anger was quickly erasing the paralysis and my voice was stronger as I snapped, "You know what? I really hate your people. I really really really hate your fucking race."

Silence met me on the other side of the line, so I took the liberty to continue, "You are given occupations before you're born and God forbid if you ever want to change those assigned roles when you're an adult. You have the most rudimental hierarchy, with no lenience whatsoever, and most of your rights seems to be dictated by one single person. Who, by the way, is a fucking monster that deals out punishment if you even breathe wrong! And then you inflict that fucked up society on top of _our_ society, forcing our people to marry yours, killing _my mom_ ," my voice broke but I didn't slow down, "because she was becoming a nuisance. You killed her like you would swat a fly. My mom-"

And I lost it, breaking into a cascade of tears fueled by grief and anger.

"Lizzie…" Alex said softly. Regretfully. And I tightened my hand around the phone, wishing that he was in my room in person.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I blubbered, not knowing what else to say because my own loss of control was scaring me.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No," I sobbed. "No."

It would worry my dad. As long as I was alone in my room, he would be unaware of my breakdown.

"You sure?"

"Yes," I stuttered, laying down on my side and letting my tears run across my face to hit the pillow.

"Okay," he said, sounding extremely unconvinced.

My broken hushed sobs filled the line between our phones for an extended pause, before Alex admitted guiltily, "There's actually something else I need to talk to you about."

I pulled my legs up to my chest, curling in on myself, and silently wondered _What now? What else is there?_

"There's a cover story about what happened to you yesterday that you need to know about. Before going back to school. I was going to tell you before classes this morning, but you never showed up at school, so-"

"What is it, Alex?" I interrupted, not looking forward to his answer.

"As far as the principal, the police, and the rest of the human society knows, Sean found you outside of the locker room barely able to stand."

My stomach clenched at the frank lie and if my tears hadn't currently been wetting my pillow, I would've let the anger consume me.

"And what was his explanation for my 'inability to stand'?" I asked succinctly.

"According to him, you had told him that you had fallen over and badly hit your head. He assumed that you had suffered a really bad concussion. As you started to complain about feeling sick, he brought you into the locker room in case you needed to throw up."

Speaking of being nauseous…

I swallowed harshly and bit out, "And how did he explain having his hands down my pants?"

"Apparently, you were acting very confused and had stated that you needed to go to toilet, whereby you had intended to pull your pants down. At which point Max, Maria and the principal arrived."

"Huh," I huffed, my tears drying on my cheeks. The anger had kicked out the sorrow. "That all sounds very logical."

"That's the story they're running with."

"Which means that everyone now thinks that Sean is some kind of white knight instead of a potential rapist."

"Essentially."

"Great," I grumbled. It also meant that the likelihood of Sean being suspended and getting any punishment for what he had done was close to nil.

"But how do they get around that I know the truth?" I asked.

"Isabel has erased your mind," Alex said naturally.

I frowned. No, she hadn't. And I told Alex just that.

"She volunteered to be the one to do it to prevent Sean or anyone else from doing it. Because they - obviously - would've done it for real."

"Isabel also can control minds, then?" But hadn't Max told me earlier that Michael and Isabel hadn't had any practice at erasing minds?

"We are all able to, to some degree," Alex answered vaguely.

"But she's not very good?"

"She is good at convincing people, so it doesn't really matter if she is skilled in mind wiping or not. _They_ think she is, because she said so. And that's all that matters."

"So she won't be erasing my mind?"

"She would've done it when you were at the hospital if she was planning to do it for real."

"Why didn't she?"

"On Max's orders."

My mind flickered to the faint hum at the back of my brain and more than ever, I really wanted him to respond to my reaching out for him.

He was doing it again. He was risking it all just to keep me safe.

While I couldn't even save him from a cold room in the basement.

As the silence stretched, Alex cleared his throat and added, "Max is the most important person in Isabel's life. She wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that. Keeping you safe while Max is unable to would be one of those unspoken agreements between the two."

I was speechless. I had trouble getting my head around the notion of the unattainably beautiful Isabel Evans protecting me.

Of course, she was most likely only doing it for her brother, not directly caring about me, but still - it was almost a glimmer of hope in this whole tragedy that constituted my life nowadays.

"Isabel asked me to tell you all of this, because her ass is on the line right along with yours - if you don't play along with the cover story."

 _Ah, what the heck,_ I thought bitterly. _Another memory wipe I needed to fake. Easy as pie._

I had a sudden bad taste in my mouth as I realized that, "I'm supposed to be grateful to Sean now?"

"You're supposed to be in love with Sean," Alex said slowly, possibly wondering if his clarification was going to push me off the edge again.

"I know," I grumbled, irritated more than anything else. I took a deep breath as my eyes flickered around the room while I attempted to collect my thoughts. My eyes fell on a picture frame on my nightstand. All of our photos had been burnt to ashes in the fire, so the photo in that frame was one out of my phone. One of the three of us; Alex, Maria and I. Looking happy. Looking like three perfectly normal teenagers.

"And what about Maria? She won't believe this whole 'Sean the Savior' crap." She was too mad to.

"I've already spoken to her," Alex said in assurance and I distractedly wondered if he was able to exert his ability of regulating my feelings even over the telephone, because I felt a bit better as he started talking, "She doesn't necessarily believe it, but she realizes that if that _isn't_ what happened, then Sean is a highly connected and dangerous person so she won't push it."

 _Maria will be safe_ , I thought relieved.

Until Alex filled in, "But she is adamant that you will back her up about you actually being assaulted. I couldn't talk her out of that small detail. So officially, she'll go with the public story, but she'll probably expect you to tell her differently behind the scenes."

"So I have to lie?" I whispered, feeling sick to my stomach. Another lie…

"You have to convince her," Alex said tensely. "And it's going to be difficult."

I winced. _Tell me about it._

I took a deep breath and said, "Thank you for telling me this, Alex. I know it couldn't have been easy."

"It's my job to keep you safe, remember?" Alex said and the space between us was immediately filled with awkwardness as his attempt at joking fell flat in light of what we had just discussed.

Me - being only a _job._

"I need some time," I said quietly.

His voice was strained and oddly polite. "Of course."

"See you at school tomorrow?" I asked, making my voice neutral.

"Looking forward to it," Alex said softly.

"Bye, Al."

"Call me if you need anything, okay?" Alex interjected quickly.

"Yeah," I said, knowing that I probably would. Even before he had (to me) officially become my protector, he had been a solid rock in my life. I wouldn't let go of that trust so easily.

"Ciao," Alex finished and I mumbled another goodbye before disconnecting the call.

* * *

I was preparing to go to bed, systematically blowing out all the lit candles in my room, when I heard the door to my bedroom open behind me.

"Dad, hang on, I-" My voice dropped off in immediate silence as I turned around and came upon the smirking form of Sean Carter, looking comfortable and boastful in my doorway.

I inhaled sharply, my abrupt shock focusing directly on the (at the moment) painful connection between Max and I. Maybe it was the sharpness of my shock blended with instant fear that made it so easy to shut off the connection. Or maybe it was because Max was probably incredibly weak at this stage. Either way, the cold from Max immediately left my body and the pain from beatings I had not received evaporated.

I had managed to close the connection. Again.

"Hello, baby," Sean grinned seductively.

I swallowed deeply, whispering, "Sean. What are you doing here?"

My mind was quiet in the wake of Max's absence, filling me with a feeling of exposure and vulnerability.

"I've come to see you," Sean said naturally, as if my question had been a foolish one.

I fisted my hands, knowing that I had to do this. Knowing that, by doing this, I would have the greatest chance of saving Max.

So I raised my chin and looked straight into Sean's cornflower blue eyes. His eyes twinkled with a conquering smile.

That smile was the last thing I remembered.


	39. THIRTY-NINE

_brokenbride - Thank you! :-D_

 **THIRTY-NINE**

The alarm on my phone woke me up with a jolt.

 _Where am I?_

It took me a moment to line up my thoughts before I realized that I was in my bed. In the sudden quietness of my bedroom.

It only took another before apprehension crawled up my skin as my last memory before waking up resurfaced.

Sean's blue eyes staring intently at me.

Anxiety hopped onto my chest and pressed down. My breathing escalated and grew more strained as I gathered the ends of my bed sheet in my fists.

What had he done? _What had he done?_

I automatically searched for Max at the back of my mind, needing his support to help me out of the panic attack that was creeping closer. But my breathing changed into hyperventilation as I found myself alone and I remembered that I had closed the connection.

Oh my God. What had Sean done?

I shuffled out of my bed, tried to straighten up to get air into my lungs as my ribcage constricted.

Breathe. Breathe.

I thought of Max and imagined his voice in my head.

Breathe.

And I managed to get my breathing under control, leaving my whole body trembling. With my lungs back on track, my eyes slowly dropped to look down my body and chills slowly crawled along my spine.

 _Was I still a virgin?_

I bit the inside of my cheek, closing my eyes in concentration, and focused on not letting another anxiety attack take hold of me.

Had Sean fulfilled his goal? Had he bonded with me?

I frowned and searched through my head. But there was no one else in my head. Only me.

Maybe it didn't feel the same way as it had with Max. Maybe Sean's presence would be more coming and going.

And I didn't feel sore - down there. Wasn't I supposed to feel sore afterwards?

I spotted the reflection of my face in the large oval mirror above my chest of drawers. I turned towards my image and walked closer to the mirror. Leaning into my reflection, I observed the dark circles under my eyes, the hollowness of my cheeks (I should probably start eating more) and the paleness of my skin. There were small patches of blush on the top of my cheeks, which contrasted heavily - almost oddly - to the lifelessness of my face.

But other than me looking horrible, I didn't seem that different.

Shouldn't I look different?

Or was that the romance novels feeding into me? That you always looked different after having sex for the first time?

A knock at my door brought me out of my conflicting thoughts.

"Honey? Are you up?"

Dad. What was dad doing up? He was never up this early these days.

"Yeah…" I cleared my throat, trying to will it to be stronger than I felt and repeated, "Yes, I'm up."

"Are you going to school today?" Dad asked through the door.

I looked back at the reflection and nodded. "Yes." I was definitely going to school today.

There was someone I needed to see.

* * *

His eyes were dark and unreadable as we locked gazes. He immediately looked away and turned to his sister who was walking next to him, apparently saying something funny because she laughed in response.

He was once again the eligible mysterious playboy extraordinaire and I was the studious good girl with a no-bullshit attitude.

We were back at square one.

Only this time, I was staggeringly relieved to see him. Even if he wasn't acknowledging me. Because he was alive. He wasn't a walking icicle; actually, he wasn't exhibiting any of the symptoms of the injuries afflicted upon him approximately 36 hours ago.

The piece of paper clutched in my hand was getting damp from my nervousness and, even though he was pretending that we didn't know each other more than as classmates, I kept my eyes on him as he walked down the corridor, quickly getting closer to where I was standing.

As he got within earshot, he turned his head towards me, a smirk on his lips and his eyes quickly traveling down my body. "Seeing something you like, Ms. Parker?"

I was a bit taken aback by his nonchalance. Even though I knew, at the back of my head, that it was all a show, it was still disconcerting to be treated as a mere girl that was lusting after him - after everything that we've been through.

After he had been inside my mind and I had been inside of his.

After I had seen that he loved me.

I swallowed, jutted my chin out, and snapped, "Nothing at all."

There was a flash of something in his eyes, before he shrugged and looked at his sister with a 'Do you get that girl?'-smile.

I caught Isabel's wary expression (apparently, she wasn't as good as her brother at keeping up with appearances). My memory flashed back to her standing next to me in front of a naked, injured and trembling Max.

Max was already passing me, barely having slowed down, and I hurried to brush against his hand before he could walk out of my reach.

His steps faltered as my palm connected with his and transferred the crumpled piece of paper I had been holding.

Not for a second did he show that he had just covertly been handed something. He didn't glance back at me, didn't say a word. He only curled his fingers around my index finger for the fraction of a second in a silent sign of recognition, before our hands separated and he disappeared down the corridor.

I stood frozen in my position and caught Isabel's eyes as she looked back over her shoulder at me.

She looked worried.

As I turned around, there _he_ was. He smiled broadly and my heart fluttered as relief flooded me. He was finally here.

"Hey," he mumbled, placed a hand on the locker behind me and leaned in so that our lips briefly brushed.

The touch weakened my legs.

"Hey," I mumbled back, blinking up into his beautiful eyes. A memory of him saying that he would pick me up this morning suddenly resurfaced. Why hadn't I remembered it before? "I thought you were going to pick me up."

He frowned slightly and grabbed a piece of my hair, tugging on it gently. "Yeah. That's what I thought. But you were already gone. Your dad said that you were in a hurry to get to school."

Right. I flushed and then frowned, turning to consult my muddy brain. Why was that? Why had I been so eager to get to school?

I met his eyes again and felt warmth spread in my body. _Of course._ I sighed, feeling love-struck. _It must've been to see you._

"How are you feeling today?" he whispered, his face still close, his breath against my face.

"Better," I mumbled, while simultaneously trying to figure out what I should be feeling better about. Why couldn't I remember?

Just then the school bell rang, announcing the start of another school day.

"See you at lunch?" Sean asked and to my disappointment I realized that I didn't share any of his classes until after lunch.

"Yes," I whispered and leaned in to steal another kiss.

He moaned with satisfaction and deepened the kiss, pressing his body against mine, pushing me up against the locker.

A brief fluttering feeling of panic, a memory of being in the same position and not getting away, befell upon me. But his fingers in my hair quickly chased them away.

I winced as the start of a headache crept up the front of my skull.

He pulled back with a smile and there was a hint of something unreadable (triumph?) as he looked at me, before his expression turned cautious, "You okay?"

I shook his concern away with a shake of my head. "Yeah. Just a headache."

His eyes darkened at this, his mouth thinning out in a grim line, before he quickly smiled and said, "Drink lots of water, okay? That usually does it for me."

I returned his smile, feeling happy that he was my boyfriend. He really looked after me.

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Lunch then?"

I nodded. "See you then."

But the closer the day got to lunch time, the more the details of my morning meeting with Sean seemed to disappear. Instead a shivering wariness and stomach clenching anxiety was taking over me as I started to forget more and more of our supposed boyfriend and girlfriend relationship.

It didn't help that a majority of the students of Roswell High seemed to be staring at me. Wherever I went, I felt someone's gaze intently following my trail. I tried to shrug it off, calling myself ridiculously paranoid. Because why would people I didn't even know suddenly show an 'interest' (or whatever you wanted to call it) in me?

By the time I'd reached 3rd period, I found myself in the eraser room, not really sure why my feet had guided me in that direction.

Until Max Evans quietly entered the room, his head bent as he barely gave me a glance before turning around and locking the door.

My breathing escalated at his presence, dominating the small space that had - several years ago - been frequently used to clean blackboard erasers.

"What- what are you doing here?" I whispered, when I really wanted to ask him if he knew what _I_ was doing here.

His face was partially covered in shadows, but his eyes were burning bright as they stared at me silently. There was a quiet pause before he fished a crumpled note out of his back pocket and handed it to me.

Our fingers met, a jolt of electricity startled me at the contact, and I drew back with a gasp, the note in my hand.

I felt his eyes on me as I smoothed out the note and read the words - in my handwriting;

 _Meet me in the Eraser Room between 3rd and 4th period.  
Sean did something, but I can't remember what._

It was as if the note opened a door to my memories and my anxiety from that same morning, having woken up without memory, came flooding back to me.

My eyes snapped to his and I shakily pulled for my breath.

He quickly grabbed my hand (and my first instinct was to pull away because I didn't really know him. Or did I?), brushing his thumb gently over my knuckles and commanded softly, "Breathe, Elizabeth."

I took a couple of deep breaths as his words resonated with something deep inside of me, tightening my grip on his hand as I did. "I know you. How do I know you?"

Why was everything so blurry? I had a feeling that I was doing something wrong, being in here with playboy Max Evans. I had a boyfriend, for God's sake! What would Sean think if he found this out?

My headache had returned and was intensifying as I tried to figure out what was going on. Because something was telling me that Sean was not to be trusted, while at the same time I wanted to leave this room right now and find him - to let him comfort me.

Through the pounding headache, I saw the hurt in Max's eyes and he slowly released my hand.

"You don't," he whispered and he sounded disappointed as he dropped his eyes.

What had he expected? Why had I invited him here? To talk about Sean?

"Just…" he looked up at me, took a step closer, which had me inhale deeply at the loaded look in his eyes. If he noticed my reaction, he was not letting it show. "Just, tell me that you're okay."

I frowned, searching deeply for the right answer, but quickly offering a light reply, "I'm okay." I added a disregarding laughter. "Just a headache."

He sighed and took a step back from me again. "Of course."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. I got the feeling that he was about to leave and for some reason I really didn't want him to go. "I obviously wrote you that note, but I can't remember why."

Max shrugged. "It's okay."

I frowned. "But it's not. It's really odd to not remember. I mean, I'm a bit too young to have Alzheimers."

To my surprise, he smiled. But the smile was sad; bittersweet. "Maybe you're just senile."

I managed a weak smile. "Yeah."

There was a beat of silence, before Max said, "So, Sean Carter is your boyfriend?"

I hesitated (why did I hesitate?) before nodding. "Yeah."

Max looked at me closely. So closely and intimately that I blushed. It was as if he was seeing straight through me. It was almost unnerving. "And he's treating you right?"

I bit my lower lip and trembled as a shot of desire raced through me when Max's eyes dropped to my lips.

My mouth went dry. Why was Max having such an effect on me? And again; Why - out of all the people - had I asked him for help? Why hadn't I approached Alex or Maria with this problem I seemed to be having with Sean that I couldn't even remember?

"Yes," I mumbled weakly.

I was unused to be looked at so intently as Max's eyes searched my face, as if he was trying to find answers to unspoken questions. "Okay." Slowly, almost regretfully, he reached out with his hand behind him and unlocked the door.

The hard snap of the lock made something snap inside of me. A memory.

A heavy leaded door slowly swinging open. My eyes widened as my inner eye revealed a bare-chested, huddling version of the strong man that was standing in front of me.

My intake of breath was so sharp that his eyes snapped to mine in startled surprise.

"What?" he breathed anxiously and, as he reached out and grabbed my upper arms with his hands, the events of the last couple of weeks flooded me and I swayed.

"Shit," he said, his grip on my arms tightening, "Are you okay?"

My breath was heavy in my chest. What had he done? What had Sean done?

"What did he do?" I asked with strain and looked up into Max's eyes. His very familiar eyes. My feelings for Max were rushing back to me like a tidal wave and I barely got out, "What did Sean do?" before I sagged against Max.

One hand was tightly holding onto my arm as the other quickly moved into my hair, cradling my head against his chest. "Liz?"

He was afraid. He sounded so scared.

I took a deep breath and willed the overwhelming feelings to the background. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

I felt his breath in my hair as he whispered hurriedly, hopefully, "You remember me?"

I took another breath and found myself smiling against his chest. His warm chest. "Of course I do."

He let out a breath of relief, brought his arms to my waist and lifted me slightly off the ground as he hugged me to him. "Thank God."

"I just forgot for a second," I mumbled breathlessly, my voice barely audible against his shirt.


	40. FORTY

_brokenbird - Yes, who knows what that Sean has been up to *shivers* Let's see if Max and Liz at least can **rule something out** in this chapter. Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 _dootadot - There's definitely a danger with being subjected to an excessive use of mindwarps. Messing with someone's brain is never good. There have been instances of humans dying from an "overdose" of mindwarps (in the background to this story), but this is not the type of story that will eventually lead you to an asylum... I can't promise anything more than that ;-) Thank you so much for the review!_

 **FORTY**

"When did you write me that note?" Max asked into my hair.

"This morning," I answered, relieved that I had all my memories back in place. Well, except for whatever happened with Sean the night before.

"So you knew this morning," Max said. "When you met me in the hall?"

I scoffed. "Yeah. Good acting, by the way."

He pressed a kiss against my hair. "I didn't know if you would remember or not. I wasn't sure how much Sean would tamper with."

I pulled back and looked up into his dynamic gorgeous face. "So you know that Sean visited me last night?"

He grimaced with pain as he trailed his fingers down the side of my face. "Even if I was very cold and mostly out of it at the time, there was no way to miss when you closed the connection. I figured it was because Sean had arrived."

I swallowed. "I need you to check."

His eyes widened. "Check what?"

"I need you to check if he…" I hesitated and licked my lips, "If he completed the bond."

My unspoken hint was so clear that Max's face immediately paled and he took a step back as his eyes traveled down my body.

 _Yes, Max. I need you to check if I've had sex._

He shook his head slowly and mumbled quietly, "No… he didn't call me."

I frowned. What?

But Max's discomfort interrupted what I might have been wanting to say before I could even formulate a question. I got the feeling that he wasn't even aware that he had said the previous words out loud.

"I-" he stuttered, his stance distressed as he let his arms slide away from my waist. "You should be able to feel if he was in your head. And-" He looked up at me with a frown, "-you shouldn't be remembering all the details about Sean or everything that's happened between us if he had completed the bond. He wouldn't let you keep those memories."

"But what about earlier?" I insisted. "Why couldn't I remember just now? Maybe it was only an incomplete bond, maybe-" Nausea crept up my throat. What if you needed to have an orgasm to complete the bond or something?

I saw the matching look of horror on Max's face and wondered if he himself knew the specific details to how a bond is formed through 'copulation' (as he so neatly had referred to it earlier). There was a flash of insecurity across his features, but it was gone so quickly that I wondered if I had just imagined it.

"Maybe he didn't finish?" Max filled in, disgust in his voice, and I knew that he had been thinking the same thing as me, even though it could be interpreted in more ways than one.

I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. "Could you please just check?"

He took another step back, creating more space between us. "I don't…"

"There should be some…change, right? Tissue damage?" I tried, not wanting to face his reluctance. Why didn't he want to help me?

"Maybe," he mumbled. "But probably not if it was…consensual."

Offense exploded in me. "It wasn't!"

He shoot me an incredulous look. "Maybe not intentionally, but…"

My heart clenched. Right. Sean would have coerced me into believing that I wanted to have sex with him.

"What about-" I reddened, heat blazing through me at what I was about to ask him, "- the hymen? You could tell if it was intact or not, right?"

Max inhaled deeply and his body was tense as a violin string as he brushed his hands through his hair. "It's a myth." His face reddened at my disbelieving expression. "I really don't want to go into the specifics, but it's a medical fact that there's usually no…breaking of the hymen."

Right. He would probably know. Considering that his father was training him to be a doctor and all.

His shoulders slumped as he kept his eyes fixed on the floor. "But I could look for microscopic bleeding and other signs of… someone being there recently."

' _Someone being there.'_ I swallowed back a nervous laugh. This wasn't funny. This. Was. Not. Funny.

But it was ridiculous how I always ended up in these conversations with him.

"Yes," I whispered instead and looked at him closely as he brought his eyes back to mine. "Do it. Please."

He looked the most uncomfortable that I had ever seen him, even shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before automatically scratching behind his ear with his hand.

"What?" I whispered. He didn't think he could do it? _Please_. He had basically brought me back from the dead.

"I don't want to open the connection again," he admitted quietly.

His explanation struck me hard, even though we've had this conversation. Even though we had both realized that we hadn't had any other choice but to break the connection. Even though _I_ had told him that we needed to break the connection.

"Okay…" I mumbled, biting back the rejection.

He searched my face, his eyes contemplative. "I could do this without connecting, but I would have to touch you…locally."

My mouth fell open and I stared at him as I watched his pupils dilate before he looked away.

Locally, _locally?_

He couldn't mean…?

"You would have to touch me…" I repeated and every drop of saliva dried out of my mouth as slow desire and longing crawled up my body, pooling in the core of my essence. Pooling where he wanted to touch me 'locally'.

He cleared his throat and then looked back at me. I gasped at his look - raw and carnal - feeling faint.

 _Don't faint. Now is not the time to faint._

He nodded slowly, licking his lips equally slowly.

 _Oh God._

But I needed to know, didn't I?

I almost laughed at myself. _Yeah,_ that's _the reason. Keep telling yourself that, Parker._

"Okay," I croaked, my voice hoarse and unstable.

His eyes widened and he looked utterly shocked for a second, before he seemed to collect himself and mumbled huskily, "Okay?"

I shuddered at his bedroom voice and whispered, "How do you want me? Standing?"

His eyes were burning through me and there were too many emotions on his face for me to be able to discern them. But I didn't need a connection to feel the sexual tension between us at that moment.

 _Sean. You'll never be able to reproduce something like this. Not even in your wildest imagination._

I pushed the thoughts away before they could sadden me. Before they reminded me that Sean would have me back in his control in no time.

"Standing is fine," Max answered and his voice was a lot more controlled and even than mine.

"Okay," I mumbled, nervous but also aroused as I looked up at him through my eyelashes.

He put his index finger under my chin, prompting my eyes to look fully into his. "Tell me to stop if it becomes too much, okay?"

I nodded, slowly. Dazed by the prospect of what was about to happen.

"Promise me," he demanded, more forcibly when I didn't respond verbally.

"I promise," I whispered, and he nodded while letting his finger slide away from my chin and slowly drag down my neck. Goosebumps spread across my skin, the small hairs on my arms rose at attention.

And without further preamble, he grabbed me by my upper arms, lifted me slightly off the ground, physically moving me half a step back to put more room between us. I gasped in surprise at the movement, before my whole body tensed as he placed his right hand on my left hip.

My eyes drifted closed and I could feel his eyes burning through my eyelids. He was watching me, closely, as the tips of his fingers curled into my thin shirt, curling into the skin over my hip.

The heat from his hand was radiating into my hip and my breathing was sharp and harsh in my ears. Was he as nervous as I was?

I opened my eyes to check, and was captured by his eyes. I inhaled shakily, my lips parting, and noted the thin ring of gold around his black, large, and dominating pupils. His free hand grabbed my right hand, weaving our fingers together, eliciting a shudder that vibrated through me.

The air around us was heating up - I was sure of it - and that was _before_ he eased off on the soft pressure over my hip and slowly moved his hand downwards. Towards the apex of my thighs.

 _Oh. God._

I watched the rise and fall of his chest escalate as I felt his hand over the zipper to my jeans. Denim was considered to be a thick material, but it wasn't thick enough to completely remove the feeling of his touch on the mound of my sex.

"You okay?" he whispered breathlessly and I was anticipating my body to ignite with flames any second.

I nodded speechlessly, tightening my fingers around Max's and focusing on remaining on my feet.

 _Was it always like this? This intense?_

He was barely touching me, for God's sake!

Then Max took the sensations to a whole new level by sending energy (or at least, that's what I _hypothesized_ he was doing - I wasn't really an healing expert) into that area, causing my skin to tingle, and with a moaned gasp I slowly dipped my head back, tightening my hand further around Max's.

I stared up at the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths of oxygen into my lungs as the most intimate parts of me heated. And heated. And heated.

And then Max withdrew his hand and my tight back was released, making my head fall forward, softly colliding with his chest. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed as I tried to rein in my feelings and regain the control of my body.

 _Who needed sex when they could be intimately examined by an alien?_

The fingers of our joined hands were still interlaced, but I had relaxed the grip. Max moved the hand he had just used to examine me by to my waist and steadied my swaying body against his.

"Liz?" he whispered into my hair and I warmed at the concern in his voice.

Did he really think that I was feeling badly after how he had just touched me…?

Speaking of touching… My eyes sprung open and coldness washed over me as my attention was drawn to the reason behind the examination. "Did Sean…?"

I left the question hanging, hoping that Max would have gotten some kind of answer.

Max let out a relieved sigh, pulling me tighter against his body. "No. I mean, I can't be 100% sure, but at least…99%. Everything was…intact."

I shut my eyes again and buried my face into his shirt. Would I ever be able to look him in the eye again? I was embarrassed at the same time as I was grateful that he had done this for me.

"And you didn't need to connect?" I asked, trying to psych myself up for leaving his arms and facing him again. It was much safer - and more comfortable - to just hide in his tight embrace.

"No. I could see everything I needed to see."

I flushed again. What exactly did that mean? It was like he had X-ray vision or something. Like he could see straight through my clothes. And I was the one that had asked him to do it.

"Right," I mumbled, put strength into my legs, squared my shoulders and stepped out of his arms.

I quickly glanced up at his face, noticed the intense darkness in his eyes, the piercing gaze, the redness to his cheeks and the soft curve to his parted lips, before I had to avert my eyes to the very interesting task of swirling my small ring around and around my finger.

"You have recovered, I see," I whispered, darting my eyes up to his face again.

His eyes crinkled in confusion. "From…?"

"Your latest run in with the law," I said thinly, wondering how my mind even for a second could forget the sight of his vulnerable and exposed wounded shivering body, because right then I could remember every breath he had taken, every different shade of blue against his lips and in the marking of his skin.

The flattering redness to his face diminished and the warmness to his eyes was dialed down - drastically. "Oh, that."

"Did your father heal you?" I wondered.

"Yes."

"Good," I mumbled. At least Dr. Evans could do something right.

"You shouldn't have been there," Max said quietly, but not silently enough to disguise the touch of anger.

I looked down at our still connected hands and said softly, "I didn't think you'd remember that I was there. You seemed pretty out of it."

He scoffed, humorlessly. "Your presence is very strong, Elizabeth. It would be impossible to not notice you."

I blushed. Again. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'." His voice was hard and I figured he was actually angry about that whole thing.

"Why are you suddenly angry with me?" I looked up at him, searching his face for answers. Would I ever get used to his changing mood?

His eyes glinted with annoyance. "Because you keep on putting yourself in danger."

Gone was the post-coital bliss - or whatever that thing had been.

I pulled my hand out of his and wrapped my arms across my chest, biting back defensively, "You're one to talk!"

His stormy gaze trapped me. "I don't deliberately look for trouble."

"And you think I do?"

His jaw muscles clenched and he hissed, "Yes!"

His anger was igniting my own, even without a connection to escalate it. "I ended up in those situations because you wouldn't tell me the truth, because you kept on getting hurt. I needed to help you, protect you-"

He tensed, if possible, even more and snapped, " _Protect me?_ You - a human - against an alien race with mental and physical powers?"

My arms tightened across my chest and a hot tear of anger tumbled down my cheek. "Stop! Just stop!"

He froze and glared at me. I glared back.

The air sparked around us and in one swift movement Max placed his hands on my ass, hauled my body up against his and crashed our lips together as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

My back impacted hard with the wall as Max pushed our interlocked bodies up against it. Two old, dusty, and forgotten erasers plunged to the floor, and I thrust my hands into his hair as his tongue touched mine. A dark groan from the back of his throat brushed over my lips and I desperately pressed up against him, my legs tightening around his waist.

I moaned into his mouth as he pulled on my bottom lip, before releasing it in favor of deeply and hotly exploring my mouth. His hips pressed up against my center and I gasped as he let that local pressure steady me against the wall while his hands quickly left my behind, ran up the sides of my upper body, causing millions of tingles to explode across my body, and buried them in my hair.

I gasped loudly as he tugged on my hair, breaking the delicious connection between our lips, and exposing my neck to his mouth as he trailed heated kisses down the curve of my neck, nibbling and tasting.

My neck arched as desire pooled and heated where our lower bodies were closely connected and my thighs automatically clenched, tightening around his waist.

He broke away from my neck with a sharp intake, connected pitch dark eyes with mine for the hint of a moment (I shivered with all-consuming lust in response), before he rapidly moved his hands from my hair to cradle my face, and brought our wanting lips back together.

"Max…" I whimpered, my fingers restless at the nape of his neck. Hot. I was so hot. And I needed… I needed more.

His pants were loud in my ears, matching my own. They mixed with the sounds of kissing, of hands moving over clothing, and bounced of the walls in the small room.

My breath hitched as he pulled back from my mouth, pulled my sweater off my shoulder, and kissed along my collarbone. Arching my back, I struggled to keep breathing as I agitatedly moved my hips slowly up and down, my hands sliding down his firm biceps and tightening my grip to keep steady.

Then his hands were back on my ass, hauling me a bit further up his upper body (maybe to move me away from the danger zone?) and his head lifted to look at me.

With strained breathing, I stared at the gorgeous guy in front of me. With his dark thick hair ruffled, his lips swollen, full and red and sensually parted, his cheeks flustered, his eyes blazing, and his expression wild. Untamed.

His appearance made my heart beat faster, my nipples tighten and goosebumps to spread across every inch of my heated body.

"Fuck…" he mumbled breathlessly and pressed his forehead against mine, letting our breaths mingle in the small space between our mouths. "What are you doing to me?"

I laughed breathlessly. _Me?_

"What are _you_ doing to me?" I whispered and my stomach curled and clenched at his responding soft laughter.

A couple of moments passed, us trying to calm our breathing, bodies still tightly connected, before I became aware of things outside of Max's breathing, the warmth from his body, his smell and the lingering taste of him on my lips.

That's when I noticed the small hum at the back of my head.

I froze, my whole body tightening against Max's.

How long had it been there?

Instantly, he pulled back. In the blink of an eye, his hands were at the sides of my body, just below my armpits, and he was lifting me back to my feet while asking, "What's wrong?"

"Can't you feel it?" I whispered, the desire which had been so overpowering in my body just a second ago quickly draining away.

He distractedly brushed his thumb over my swollen bottom lip as he repeated, "What?"

I concentrated on the hum, wanting to make sure that it was really there before I said anything else. Maybe I was just imagining it - since Max didn't seem to be aware of it.

But as I focused on that small warming and comforting presence at the back of my mind, there was an increased pressure in my mind. Like someone was blowing up a balloon.

Next, it popped. And my blockage disintegrated.

In front of me, Max stopped breathing, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open, as I could feel the desire still moving through his body, the concern for my safety and for what had just scared me, the million conflicting feelings about our situation and even the dark feelings about Sean. And from the look on his face, I was pretty sure he could feel just about everything that was happening in my body as well.

"Crap…" he mumbled.

The bond was wide open again.


	41. FORTY-ONE

_A/N: So sorry about the delay. Real life has been real hectic this week :-(_

 _brokenbride - Thank you so much!_

 **FORTY-ONE**

He took a step back from me, running his hands through his hair, which didn't do much to fix the mess my hands had done to it earlier in our moment of indescribable passion.

I stepped away from the wall and noticed that one half of my pants was covered in white chalk dust.

"You didn't close it," he mumbled. "Of course you didn't. You don't know how. No one does."

I bit my lip, wondering if he had forgotten that I was in the room as he started pacing (which wasn't really that easy to do considering the limited space).

"But I couldn't feel you. And Sean got through."

He looked at me, eyes conflicted, his shoulders tense. "You never removed it. You just paused it." He rolled his eyes skywards. "Of course. How else would I've been able to bring the connection back after you closed it the first time? And all I did then was kiss you. Just like now."

I felt like a failure. My one task in trying to save us had been to push him away, to end our bond. But obviously I couldn't even do that.

"Just like now," I murmured and uninhibitedly blushed. I swallowed and dropped my eyes, forgetting that he could feel every inch of disappointment, every sliver of failure and rejection in my body.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when he, just the fraction of a second later, was standing in front of me, his index finger under my chin, gently prompting me to look up.

"Hey." His voice was gentle and I felt his own guilt and hopelessness flow through the connection. "This is _not_ your fault. Okay?"

I swallowed, my mind already trying to come up with options, with alternatives and solutions as to how to turn off my bond to Max (that I really didn't want to turn off at all), and I could barely look at him.

"Liz," he pleaded gently. "Look at me."

I sighed and obliged. He looked so sad. So…lost. I bit my lower lip and, as usual, noticed his eyes travel down to watch. But this time he leaned in and softly fused our lips together, and pulled my bottom lip from between my teeth and tugged it between his own.

My heart clenched.

And just as suddenly as it had happened, Max pulled back. His gaze was waiting for me as I slowly opened my eyes and looked up at him through my eyelashes.

He slowly shook his head and his nausea was pulsating through our bond. "I don't know what to do. I should just-"

He took a step back, swiftly turned around and slammed his fist into the wall. I jumped, my heart missing a beat.

"Fuck," he cried and then lowered his voice as if he had just remembered that we were cutting class and were not supposed to be discovered, as he repeated, "Fuckfuckfuckfuck-"

My pulse was throbbing in my ears.

"Max." I swallowed and walked up to him, putting my hands on his shoulders, squeezing and pressing my cheek between the shoulder blades of his well-muscled back.

His monologue reached a deafening end and my arms slid down his back and curled around his waist. He brought his hands up to cover mine at the front and we just stood there, for what seemed like forever.

"Do you have any idea what I would do if anything happened to you?" His quiet voice broke the silence, its abruptness making me jump. "I hate that you have to bond with Sean."

I tensed and held my breath, letting him speak. I had no more words.

"Every other second I try to come up with a plan for the perfect murder so that I can get rid of him and he won't be able to hurt you."

My arms tightened around his waist as my heart ached. My beautiful, healing hybrid. He was meant to do good, to help and cure. Not destroy and kill.

"But then I realize that it won't matter. There will always be another Sean. There are many military aliens and hybrids eager to have someone like you; to possess and exploit someone like you."

The blood in my veins was turning to ice. I guess, in a way, I had still been holding onto hope. Hope that Max would come up with some kind of solution to stop this madness. Hope that Sean wouldn't succeed in bonding with me. Hope that Sean would lose interest in me - that the whole alien race would lose interest in me. Hope that they would find me defective, erase my mind and let me go on with my life.

But Max was slowly eliminating all of my hopes.

In the void left after hope was dying, a dark thought crawled in and took its place. I felt in the tightening of his back, in the cramping hold of his hands on top of mine, that he had felt it too, but I still voiced it. Let it infect the air around us, "Or you could just kill me."

His walls slammed down around his mind, cutting me off completely from any insights into his emotions, and I was left with listening to his breathing as it turned strained.

"I wouldn't have to suffer," I continued quietly. "You wouldn't have to watch me go through all of that and not being able to change it. My dad wouldn't have to watch me change and grow distant, get sick-"

"Your dad wouldn't want you _dead_." His voice was cold and dark as he interrupted me.

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed and pressed myself further into his back, trying to absorb some of his alien warmth into my freezing body. "I can't do this, Max." The sob surprised me as it ripped through my ribcage. "I'm only sixteen years old. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to put my life up for sacrifice." Fresh tears were wetting the back of his shirt as I continued, "I thought I could. I really wanted to be strong. To show you that I could survive, that I was the strong person that you seem to think I am. But I can't. Okay? I can't!"

He was very quiet and I felt so alone and cold when I couldn't read him, when the hum at the back of my mind banged on a cold wall without a response.

His hands curled around my wrists and he unhinged my arms from his waist. I felt the rejection claw at my stomach, anticipating him to just walk away, before he turned around in the loosened circle of my arms, brought my hands up to his mouth and placed one gentle kiss on the back of each of my hands, on the hills of my knuckles.

His eyes were a stormy ocean of emotions as he looked down at me, whispering, with a hint of incredulity, "Do you really think that I could kill you?" He shook his head, looking pained and disgusted. "I would kill myself before letting anyone touch you-"

"You would let Sean touch me-" I started and bit my tongue. I hadn't meant to say that.

His eyes turned a shade darker and he pinned me with his gaze. "That's not what I meant."

"To me, Sean touching me equals death."

He exhaled loudly, agony in every detail of his facial features. "I know."

I silently filled in the rest; It was not like there was any other choice.

I pulled my hands away from his and wiped the tears away from my cheeks. I felt drained. Being with Max was always an emotional rollercoaster. Just a few minutes ago, I had been at an emotional high, being the happiest I had ever been. And now I was asking for Max to end my life.

This was crazy.

"I'm supposed to meet him at lunch, and later tonight," I mumbled.

He didn't say anything. I couldn't blame him. What more was there to say? It didn't help to talk about it; we just ended up in that same dead end zone, with no way to go but pain.

"Our bond is obviously still alive and kicking," Max said slowly and I could feel his searching eyes on the top of my head as I stared at my shoes. "Even when you paused it. Which would explain why Sean hasn't been able to completely erase your mind, and why you can still remember me and remember who Sean really is. But he _is_ getting through to some degree. That's why you couldn't remember us just now and had forgotten about the note you wrote. So he's getting better. For now, he's probably chalking up the problems with controlling your mind to your resistance. You _have_ resisted him before."

He let out a shuddering breath and I looked up at him. He looked worried and deathly pale. "But it's only a matter of time before he finds out that his efforts have been unsuccessful, and you'll be straight in the line of his wrath."

My face paled to match his. "Wrath?"

His eyes softened at my fear and he tenderly cradled my left cheek, running his thumb slowly back and forth over my cheek as he answered, "You've never seen an alien angry."

 _I've seen you,_ I thought and he seemed to pick up on my line of thinking as he added, "Hybrid-angry has got nothing on alien-angry."

I thought of the turbulent and passionate emotions occasionally exploding out of Max and I tried to envision a more extreme version of that. My mouth went dry.

He was watching me closely and his voice was a tad stronger, flattered by authority, as he stated, "We _have to_ turn off the bond. Or you'll get hurt."

I curled my fingers around the hand he was holding against my cheek, pulled it towards my mouth and placed a soft kiss in the center of his palm. "How about you stay with me all the time? If you're with me and we're always in the company of humans, Sean won't be able to do anything, right?"

Max's eyes softened, "Baby…" The endearment shot a blaze of heat through my heart. That short word became impossibly intimate as it was caressed by his lips. "Initially, it might work. For a while, it might work. But they can wipe the memories of every witness they ever encounter. And after they've done that, they would lock you up forever and-" he grimaced, "-I'm not even sure what they would do to me," as if the thought of his own fate didn't bother him half as much as mine did.

Hello, Dead End.

His eyes turned frustrated. "I should just take you away from here. Go underground. You'd never have your white picket fence or your dog. You would probably never have children or get married. But you'll be alive."

Something flushed through me. Hope?

"Do it," I whispered.

 _Take me away with you. Take me away._

He dropped his head with a sigh, his jaw clenching with anger. "But they'll find us. They'll always find us. We would live in fear, always looking over our shoulder. Never being free."

"I would be much freer than the future awaiting me now."

He looked away, and mumbled under his breath, "I know."

And the school bell rang.

His head snapped back to my face and I had time to blink once before his hands were cradling my face and his lips were on mine, kissing me passionately and heatedly. I sank into his touch, pushed my hands through his thick hair.

Just as I was getting comfortable, he pulled back - breathing heavily - and leaned his forehead against mine as he whispered, "I love you."

I felt myself crumbling and my fingers tightened against his neck as I fought tears of hopelessness. I didn't want to think of the reasons why he would make such a confession at this time. I didn't want to think of the implications that he might be thinking that if he didn't tell me now, he never would have the chance to.

"It's like you're saying goodbye," I said quietly, fighting to keep my voice steady. I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. I wasn't ready to seal my faith with a reciprocal confession of love. Even if I wanted to say it. Even if I wanted to return the spoken admission that we already had felt and heard through that extraterrestrial bond.

Max bent at the knees so that he could bring his eyes level with mine. The look in his eyes was soft but melancholic as he seemed to turn my words over before he gently brushed his lips against my temple, sending shivers of bittersweet pleasure down the side of my neck and prickling out through my fingers. With a sigh, he pulled back.

He seemed ready to fall apart himself as he slowly nodded and released me with a step backwards. "I'll think of something. I _have to_ think of something. Or I'll just end up killing Sean."

I couldn't help but feel like that wasn't such a bad idea. But of course he couldn't do that. It would ruin his life.

"Okay," I mumbled, a touch of relief seeping into my voice.

His eyes lingered on my face for two concerned seconds, before he said softly, while his eyes turned fiery. "I'll keep watching over you. Even when you pause our connection to fool Sean and buy us time. Even when he's in your mind. I won't let him do anything that can't be undone. Okay?"

I swallowed, feeling sad and relieved at the same time.

"Time for school," Max whispered with an attempted half smile and approached the door, his eyes searching my face.

I took a deep breath, trying to collect myself, trying to bring energy back into my bone-tired body. At least Max's presence had removed the headache inflicted on me by Sean trying to manipulate my mind.

"Don't forget me," he said quietly, his eyes begging, causing the air in my chest to hitch and making it impossible for me to find any words and give him a responding promise before he was out the door.

As the door closed behind him and I was alone in the dusty dark room, I felt the hum in my mind intensify and Max's feelings flow freely into my mind.

A bittersweet and secret smile touched my lips as I pushed my Max-tousled hair back from my face, letting his feelings for me caress my soul. He had brought the walls around his mind down.


	42. FORTY-TWO

**FORTY-TWO**

Considering the physical distance between our bodies and our minds, I had never before felt so much from Max. With every vibrant nuance of his rich emotional repertoire, I became increasingly aware of just how much he had hid from me during the periods when we had shared a mental bond.

With some humbling degree of mortification, I also realized how much was actually possible to be shared though the bond and how much Max must have received through the connection from me ever since he healed me that Sunday morning outside of my burning childhood home. I wondered if he had at any point tried to block me, because my feelings were mostly all over the place and it must've been exhausting - not mentioning distracting - to be assaulted by my emotional life. One could only wonder how it must feel to Max?

Or had he actually felt - and endured - every single private emotion of mine?

It was a comfort, though, that his feelings seemed just as confusing, altering and scattered as mine. They changed from trepidation to anxiety to fear to anger to sadness to regret to guilt to longing to bittersweet happiness to quiet reflection and so on. I wondered how much of that was for me.

Not being physically connected, we didn't share thoughts, only emotions. And the further we got from each other physically, it was mostly the stronger emotions that were getting through. The ones that made your heart suddenly fly off in tachycardia, and made a smile spread across your lips no matter where you were, the ones that made your palms sweat and your stomach coil.

I realized that I could almost sense how far away he was by the strength of his emotions.

This fascinated me at the same time as it struck me with overwhelming sadness as it reminded me that I couldn't embrace that bond, since it would soon be gone.

The next period passed quickly and by the end of it, I had no idea what had been said or taught. I had been very busy 'eavesdropping' on Max's beautiful span of emotions. And by the time the school bell rang, I was hot and bothered, fueled with a need to find Max, pull him into some private room and heavily make out with him. Amongst other things.

But instead of doing all of that, I inhaled deeply as I stacked my notebook on top of the textbook, topped it off with my half-chewed pencil and pressed back the chilling feeling of impending doom as I, once again, focused on bringing up that steel wall around my mind.

I was so focused on my task that I walked straight into the doorway and snickering mixed with laughter erupted around me. I took another breath, tried to give appearance that I had meant to do that, and hurried out of the classroom.

I leaned up against the wall of the hallway, squeezed my eyes closed in attempt to block out my surroundings, and focused again on shutting Max out.

He had said that he loved me.

He had taken the walls down.

He would have taken me away from here, to live with me underground, if it hadn't been a dead end.

"You okay there, Parker?" an amused voice asked next to me and my eyes snapped open to discover Michael Guerin looking at me, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "That doorway came out of nowhere, did it?"

My past natural instinct to fear Michael was forgotten as I glared at him and bit out, annoyed, "I'm fine."

Michael chuckled. "Right."

And to my relief he left.

My eyes distractedly scanned the hallway, wondering how I would be able to shut Max out this time. How I was supposed to shut someone out that I desperately wanted to let in.

I realized that I needed to find Alex or Maria before hitting the cafeteria. Despite my sporadic black-outs as of late, I hadn't forgotten that I was supposed to meet Sean for lunch. My hope was that Sean wouldn't try anything too obvious if we weren't alone. And maybe Alex would use his alien abilities and bend Sean into feeling that he didn't need to control me just then - or something.

It was not difficult to find Maria. She was laughing loudly at Alex who was trying to juggle two apples and one banana outside of Maria's locker.

I hurried up to them, my breath in my throat as I suggested, a little bit too excitedly, "Lunch?"

My two friends looked at me, smiles remaining on their faces from the entertainment they had both just enjoyed, but their smiles were slipping as they saw my anxious expression.

Maria's eyes widened in confusion along with her mouth falling open as she took a breath to start talking.

But Alex cut off her speech, "Sure," hooking arms with Maria and pulling on her, "Come along, Ria."

I felt Max match my feelings through the bond; trepidation and nervousness. I wondered if he could tell that I was about to meet up with Sean and that I was having trouble shutting down (or pausing, or whatever I did to that connection) the connection.

With his fear feeding into mine, making my heart gallop in my chest, I grew gradually convinced that he did in fact guess that a meeting with Sean was in the imminent future.

"Do you guys have lunch with you?" Maria asked as I tried to focus on keeping my heart in my chest.

"Nah," Alex said and I could feel his eyes on my tense profile. "I'll grab something here."

A soft warm blanket of comfort spread through my body, making me stumble with its abruptness, as my heartbeat was forced back into normal rhythm and intensity.

Alex grabbed my upper arm, asking, "Are you okay?"

I looked at him, a frown of bewilderment on my forehead, and as our eyes met I realized what had happened. My anxiety overrode the feeling of comfort as it slammed into me, making me pull my arm quickly out of his assisting hold.

"Don't do that to me," I hissed.

Alex's face fell and hurt passed over his face. He leaned in, still walking, and whispered, "I was only trying to help."

I tried to pull back the worst of my anger. I could see what he had been trying to do. He had used his ability on me to calm me down; in his world he had been _helping_ me.

But I was sick and tired of these ET:s deciding what I was supposed to think and even feel.

"Don't," I hissed back, glancing at Maria just as she angled her head around and in front of Alex's body, to be able to look at me.

"What are you two whispering about?"

"Nothing," Alex and I said in unison and our eyes collided with a sheepish smile.

Maria narrowed her eyes suspiciously and harrumphed in disbelief, "Uh-huh."

We brushed through the large yellow swinging doors which exposed us to the loud noise of hundreds of human voices talking over each other as we entered the canteen, and Maria raised her voice to be heard over the buzz, "Have you two made up?"

"We weren't fighting, Maria," I denied, dodging a football player with a tray filled with food, not looking where he was going as he was having an ongoing conversation with one of his friends behind him.

"Sure seemed like it," Maria said, completely not fooled by my denial.

Alex snagged up a tray from the bright yellow stack and said, "It was my fault."

I halted, freezing in the act of gathering a tray of my own. What was he about to do? What would he say?

"What did you do?" Maria asked, grabbing an apple and a plate with a slice of pizza, adding the articles to her tray. I know that she was trying to deny it, but I could see the curious interest glow on her face. Maria was all over this.

"I wasn't there for Liz. When her mother died."

My eyes flickered to his face and I wondered if he meant that. If he actually felt that he had not been around when I needed him the most. Thinking back to it, I couldn't really remember where he had been. If he had tried to make contact or not. Things were blurred from that time. And I had been too focused on figuring out what Max was hiding to pay much attention to friends offering their condolences.

"But you were traveling," Maria interrupted and looked at me for affirmation. "Right, Lizzie? You're not mad at him because of that?"

I swallowed. No, I wasn't. But apparently Alex wanted it to be the excuse to me avoiding him. I couldn't very well tell Maria that the reason for avoiding Alex was that I had discovered that he was an alien.

"No," I sighed, and as I looked at the display of food, my stomach did a somersault and I decided that I couldn't eat, but grabbed a banana for appearances, and added, "It was just a bad time for him to talk to me. Things were said - completely in the heat of the moment."

"Huh," Maria said, still unconvinced, and eyed my banana pointedly as I pushed my tray up to the register. "Is that all you're eating?"

"I'm a bit nauseous," I said, avoiding her eyes. I felt Alex's eyes burn into the side of my face.

"Anyway, we're over it," Alex said lightly and I wondered why he was helping me to divert the attention away from my lack of appetite.

But Maria's attention wasn't that easily diverted. Handing the food lady the required amount of money, she grabbed her tray, hitched with her chin in the direction of an empty table and said, "You've barely eaten anything at all since you had that breakdown." She glanced back at my paling face, before taking a seat, grabbing the pizza slice mid-movement and pointing the pointy end of the food item at the seat next to her, smiling sweetly, "I've saved you a seat."

I took one look at my best friend and tensed. _Uh-oh. She's up to something._

Why couldn't I sit _opposite_ her?

When my body froze instead of taking the appointed seat, Maria pulled the chair out with her sneaker-covered foot while simultaneously taking a big bite of the pizza slice and repeating around a mouthful, "Sit."

I inhaled deeply and sank down on the chair, feeling like I was being brought to trial.

"Maria-" Alex started behind me, a tired warning in his voice. But whatever he was going to say was cut off by Maria's raised finger and pointed look.

"Alex," she said, "Why don't you go and get Liz here some pizza?"

"I don't th-" Alex started at the same time as I protested with a, "I'm not hungry."

Maria frowned, the start of real anger flashing in her green eyes as she leaned in towards me. "I can't just stand by and watch you wither away, Liz. You're my friend. And friends look after each other. They don't stand idly by, watching their friends starve themselves to death."

An odd combination of irritation, frustration, and love seized me, making my jaw tighten defensively. "You can't force me to eat."

"Maybe not here," Maria admitted. "But anywhere else that's not as public, I can get our dear Alex here-" she looked at Alex, interjecting empathically, "who _still_ hasn't gotten you that pizza," I heard Alex sigh loudly before departing to fulfill Maria's 'request', and Maria turned back to me, "-to help me tie you to a chair and force food down your throat."

I rolled my eyes. Maria didn't scare me. Especially not when I compared her to the people (using the term 'people' with a pinch of salt) I had come into contact with lately. Max's father and Sergeant Carter being at the top of that 'Scary'-list.

"And then I'm going to pull the truth out of you," Maria continued and I held my breath in anticipation of what she was going to say next, "because there's something more going on here than just the death of your mom."

She took two mouthfuls of pizza, distractedly wiping her fingers on a napkin, before adding, "And I think I've finally figured it out."

I believe my heart stopped and I had to swallow before I could whisper, "You have?"

 _Had she_ figured everything out? I was pretty sure Maria was human, because after finding out about Alex I had made sure to carefully research Maria and her family, so how would she possibly be able to figure out what I had been up to these last couple of weeks?

"Uh-huh," Maria said, looking triumphant as she brushed her tongue over her teeth and reached for the can of Coca Cola.

I looked at her closely, highly aware of Max's presence at the back of my mind, wondering what kind of emotions I was sending him right then. Because right then I was nervous about what Maria was about to say. I was scared about her safety, because the alternate world I had (apparently) been part of since the day I was born, was dangerous. And I would presume that that alternate world was even more dangerous for someone like Maria - someone 'non-special' - because she was expendable.

Maria's eyes glittered, in obvious delight of my reaction, as she announced, "I think you're in love, Elizabeth Parker."

The air whooshed out of me and I slumped forward. _Thank Goodness._ Maria was still Maria the Matchmaker, not Maria the Private Investigator.

"Really?" Alex asked as he sank down on my other side, warily placing the plate with the pizza slice on my tray. Next to the lonely and, for the moment, abandoned banana.

A nervous laugh escaped me (where had that come from?) and I shook me head. "No, Maria."

But my response only fueled her theory and she laughed victoriously while she pointed at me, "I knew it! It's Max, isn't it?"

"What about Max?"

The outside voice cut sharply into our bubble and made our trio pause while our eyes synchronically moved to the owner of the voice who was standing behind me. I knew exactly where he was standing, determined by the energy I felt flow towards me.

And I felt a headache coming on.

My pulse was already picking up as my stress shot towards dangerous levels. And my traitorous mind (which was supposed to hide Max) could only think his name over and over again.

Max. Max. Maxmaxmaxmaxmax.

Because Sean was standing behind me and my connection to Max was still wide open.

With a snap forceful enough to make me jump, Max slammed his walls down, and I could no longer read him. My gasp was elongated and loud as my head dipped forward with the unceremonious sense of loss.

He must have understood through the connection that Sean had approached me.

Unless…

I snapped my head upwards and quickly scanned the cafeteria. It didn't take me long to find him and his dark eyes collided with mine. Even without the insight into his feelings, I could see the tension in his body, the anger in his eyes and I noticed how Michael, seated next to him, was staring at him oddly.

While all of this transpired, Maria had found her voice and answered, with a certain wobbly strain to her voice, "Um…none of your business, Sean."

I forcibly tore my eyes away from Max's and squeezed them tightly shut; concentrating on blocking him.

Close.

Close.

 _Close._

And the comforting hum grew silent and vanished.

I tried to focus on Maria, noticing the small twitch around her blazing eyes and the way her hand was tightly squeezing the napkin on her tray.

Maria was angry. Like Alex had told me, Maria didn't quite believe the story about Sean just having taken care of me in the gym after a presumed concussion. She had seen for herself how affected I was and probably how guilty Sean had acted.

I had to admire her for controlling herself, for not exploding in front of Sean when she was, for now, supposed to go with the official story of Sean being my 'savior'. Control was not something Maria generally excelled at.

But Maria had grown a lot these last couple of weeks. I was just beginning to see that.

"I hope you don't think we've saved you a seat, Sean," Maria continued acidly and I inhaled deeply, fisting my hands tightly and invoked the actress within me.

I felt Alex's eyes on my profile, noticed how he had barely moved in his chair since Sean had arrived, and right then I kinda wished that Alex would use his powers on me. Calm me down. Make me focus.

Because I didn't only have to convince Sean, but also Maria.

So, turning smiling eyes to Maria, I said lightly, "You're right, Ria."

She turned to look at me, hesitation in her anger, and frowned. Before she had a chance to ask what she was correct about, I elaborated, "I _have_ fallen in love." I swallowed and reached behind me to seek out Sean's hand, my heart racing with the lie. His hand was dry and cold against mine, but he eagerly returned my squeeze, my hand folding into his.

Maria's eyes widened in shock, her back sharpening with a snap, as she followed my movement. "You must be…" she gasped and anger colored her cheeks red.

I willed myself to continue and state the implication straight out, when I really wanted to laugh it all away and let Maria know that 'yes, I was kidding. I would _never_ voluntarily let Sean anywhere near me'. With a smile so sweet that I felt it sting my teeth, I filled in, "With Sean."

"No," Maria whispered, looking like I had just announced that I was dying, as her anger was rapidly going through the stages of denial, confusion, and fear.

I wondered what was running through her head. If she was thinking of me talking fondly of Sean one second and blankly refuting that I had any feelings for him at all the next. If she was remembering when the drunk version of Sean had hugged me from behind at that party, painfully pressing his arms into my unhealed wound and how she had screamed at him for hurting me.

She most definitely was thinking of the gym incident, which was cloaked in a cover story she didn't even believe. I wondered if she was slowly losing all respect for me. After all, to the outside observer I probably looked both naïve and stupid, running back to Sean and, on top of that, apparently falling in love with him.

I took another deep breath, preparing myself to turn around in my seat, because I knew what would happen when I looked into Sean's eyes.

I would lose myself.

"Believe it," Sean answered and I could hear the smug in his voice.

Anger flashed through me. _Bastard._

Maria shifted in her chair, the knuckles of her hands turning white from her tight hold on the table. I didn't dare to face her any longer.

Instead I glanced in Max's direction, making my heart tremble at the way he was looking at me and the scene at our table (barely concealed anger all rolled up into helplessness), I started turning in my seat, when a female voice interrupted.

"Liz. Could I speak with you?"

Surprised (and very relieved to be interrupted) I found Isabel standing behind Maria, looking beautiful and regal. An Amazon beauty of perfection.

"Sure," I basically stuttered, before carefully giving Sean's hand a comforting squeeze as I let it go, and rose from my seat - being careful not to look directly at Sean as I smiled at him, "I'll be right back."

"I'll grab some food then," he answered and there was obvious irritation in his voice.

"Great," I said cheerily, but my eyes was questioning and serious as I locked gaze with Isabel.

She hitched her head towards the exit of the cafeteria, wanting me to follow. Sure. Whatever would buy me time.

Isabel was already halfway out of the cafeteria by the time I got my legs working to follow her. I felt clumsy and plain following in her elegant footsteps.

The hallway was empty as we reached it and I stepped right into Isabel's floral smelling body as she abruptly turned and stopped.

Her eyes were frantic and worried. I think it was the first time that I could see a resemblance to her brother. When she wasn't putting on an Ice Princess show, her eyes reminded me of Max.

"Do you remember me?" she whispered anxiously.

My eyes narrowed in suspicion and confusion. "Um…yeah?"

She sighed frustratedly, as if I was a small child that just didn't get it. " _I mean_ , do you _remember_ me?"

I crossed my arms across my chest, not appreciating her attitude. "You mean, do I remember that you are an alien-human-hybrid, who is part of a secret population of tormenters and users of homo sapiens and who would just stand idly by and watch her own brother being hurt and freezing cold? Because then; yes, I remember you."

Her face had turned ice-cold during my statement and her reply was clipped and short, "Funny."

I guess that Max had already informed his sister of my momentary memory lapses post my contact with Sean.

I dug my fingers into the sides of my elbows. "What's up, Isabel?"

She exhaled loudly, looked at me quietly with contemplation for a long pause, before she simply stated, "I need you to seduce Max."


	43. FORTY-THREE

_brokenbride - Yes, that was something of an odd move on Isabel's part. But an explanation is coming up in this chapter. Thank you so much for your comment about Maria. I'm not really aiming to imitate the show's characters perfectly (for instance, this Max is somewhat different than the boy hiding behind a tree in the TV-series), but I'm nonetheless really happy to hear that I'm staying in character. Although, I would have to admit that I'm trying to keep their "cores" true to the show; their very essence._

 _Thank you for all of your feedback!_

 **FORTY-THREE**

"Wh-what?" I sputtered, uncomfortable laughter bubbling up in my throat as I stared at Isabel.

She was looking at me, clearly annoyed with my reaction. "Believe me; this wasn't exactly my favorite thing of the day to ask."

Even my mind was speechless at this point. "You want me to _seduce_ Max?"

She sighed, leaned against the wall with a bored expression as she scrutinized her fingernails. "I've thought about this a lot and yes, that's my conclusion."

"How?" I felt stupid. "Why?" But mostly I felt nervous and worried about what her 'request' entailed.

She looked up from her perfect nails, angling her head to the side as she silently regarded me, before she hitched her head towards the other side of the hallway. "Come on. Let's find someplace more private."

My gaze fluttered around us, suddenly aware that we weren't alone, and realizing that what Isabel was going to talk about wouldn't be suited for the ears of the regular human population.

And right now, Isabel was not the least intimidating, which made me follow her without hesitation down the hall towards the female toilets.

Isabel marched into the female restroom as if she owned it, quickly checked underneath the stalls to ascertain that they were empty, before stepping around me, putting her hand over the lock to the main door, emitting a glow from her hand (my mouth fell open in surprise) and turned back to me with an unreadable face. After brushing an errant strand of hair out of her face, she once again was the epitome of perfection.

"Max has told you about our type of connection, right?"

My eye twitched in worried anticipation. Where was she going with this? Tentatively, I agreed, "Yes."

"I have to admit, I didn't really believe Max when he first claimed to have bonded with you, but then I witnessed it for myself."

In their basement. When Isabel had suggested that I should transfer my body heat to Max through the connection.

"And…" she scratched distractedly above her right eye. I was surprised by the normalcy of that movement. How human that movement of indecisiveness made her.

I wet my dry lips and prompted, "And…?"

"And I realized what we need to do."

I looked at her incredulously. "Seduce Max?"

She gave me a half-smile, so normal and warm that I found myself thinking that (just like with Max) there was a whole other person underneath that mask of pretense. "Yeah."

"And what would that solve exactly?" I wondered, while simultaneously questioning why I was trying to talk my way out of this. Didn't I _want_ to seduce Max? Was it not Max whom I wanted?

I couldn't help it, couldn't stop the hope from igniting. Had Isabel found a solution to the whole Sean-gene-Max-problem?

She looked at me seriously, without blinking. I swallowed in the shine from her exposed look. "I'm worried about him. I've never seen him like this before. He has always been a 'good boy' within our community, but now he's breaking all the laws and getting beaten and punished every other second."

I chilled, frozen into silence.

"Because of you," Isabel continued. "I would bet my life that he would risk everything, even die, for you."

She frowned, putting her head to the side as if I was a mystery that needed solving. "And even if I don't understand that, I can't allow it."

Sadness brushed her beautiful eyes and she admitted with an honesty that was very un-Isabel, "I can't lose my brother. He's my best friend."

I bit my lip, a bit insecure on how to act around this new version of Max's sister. "So you want me to seduce him to…what? Give him a happy memory before he sacrifices himself..?"

Isabel's laughter was so abrupt that I jumped. Her eyes glittered with bemusement as she quieted. "Not really." Still smiling, she already looked much more relaxed. "I have a theory."

"Okay…?"

"Max has told you about how we usually bond with humans, right?"

"Yep," I answered, thinking of _copulation_.

"And he has told you about the other option to bonding, available to only a few people with his rare gift?"

"Yes."

"Which - if my brother hasn't lied to me - is the reason why you're connected right now."

I nodded.

"And I kinda hate Sean," she continued and my whole body tensed at the mention of my prospective bonding-partner. "And I wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy." She shrugged, "Not that you're my enemy, but you get my drift."

"Sure," I agreed tonelessly.

"But I would hate to be bonded to someone like that," she elaborated.

 _Okay? You're not really making me feel any better about this whole situation here, Isabel._

In light of my silence, Isabel explained, "So, it got me thinking. What if - by using two methods of bonding - your bond would be stronger. Doubled up." She licked her lips, looking at me expectantly. "Your bond would be indestructible. Irreversible."

My heart fell to my stomach with a hard thump.

"This would eliminate the risk that Sean would get to you. You would be unusable to him." She smiled brightly, proud of herself. "So he would leave you alone."

My throat felt dry. I whispered hoarsely, "Or they might just kill us both for betraying your laws."

But I wasn't thinking about my words as I said them. My mind was occupied with going over Isabel's suggestion and the more the cogwheels turned in my head, the more upset I felt myself becoming.

Isabel shrugged, insensitive to my preoccupation. "Isn't that a chance you're willing to take, considering the alternative?" She lightly bumped my shoulder with her fist. "Come on. Admit it, Parker. You have the hots for my brother. It's not like we'll be forc-"

"Does Max know about this?" I whispered sharply.

Isabel stilled, the smile slipping off her face, her mouth crinkling in dissatisfaction at my lukewarm (more like chilling) reaction to her marvelous idea. "We've discussed it."

Her matter-of-fact statement made my anger flare.

"You've-" I sputtered.

The reason behind my reaction was slowly dawning on Isabel's face, her eyes turning cautious and worried, "No. No, it's not like that."

"I-" I clenched my fists tightly against my sides, pulling in a sharp breath. The anger was all-consuming. "I need to go."

"Liz…" Isabel tried, but I shrugged her interfering hands off me and reached for the door.

It wouldn't budge.

"Liz," Isabel said again, coming up behind me.

"Open the door, Isabel," I hissed, not looking at her.

"Just let me explain-"

"Open. The. Door."

Isabel expelled a resigned breath, reached in front of me and put her hand against the lock. Following a brief light emitted from her palm, there was a click as the door was unlocked, and then I was moving through the corridor, back towards the cafeteria.

I must have looked crazy, my hair flying wildly behind me and my steps hurried but determined, as I moved through the busy cafeteria. That is, if you were judging from the hushed conversations and surprised stares which were following my angry march.

But I didn't care about that. My eyes had zoned in on their goal.

Halfway there, a hand snaked out and grabbed my underarm. "Liz."

The chills rushed down my spine, momentarily putting a damper on the blazing anger, but as I whipped my head towards the person holding me back and verified that it was who I thought it was, my anger was back full-force.

My voice was low and threatening as I hissed, "Not. Now. Sean."

I saw Maria's chin almost touch the floor as her mouth fell open in complete surprise from her viewpoint from the neighboring table (had Maria stopped Sean from taking a seat at our table…?), looking comically similar to one of those cartoons where their mouth would elongate all the way to the ground in an exaggerated vision of shock.

Sean let go off my arm as if he had been burnt, but I didn't waste any time on being happy about my successful avoidance of his mind control.

Instead I pushed plastic chairs out of my way, bumped into a table or two, and, upon reaching his table, I grabbed Max's arm, pulling sharply.

He had followed my arrival since the moment my stormy eyes had connected with his upon reentering the cafeteria, but still he wasn't completely prepared for my sudden tug on his arm making him lose his balance for a second, grabbing onto the table to stop himself from falling off the chair.

Michael pushed to his feet, towering up in front of me intimidatingly. "Hey!"

I spun around to look at Max's _protector_ and watched him shrink away from my gaze. "Back off, Michael."

Michael's eyes drifted to Max in question and I looked down at Max, seeing him shrugging in response before getting to his feet. "What, Parker?"

He was probably the only one that didn't seem scared of me.

Max's public display, which implied not knowing me, did nothing short of infuriating me even more.

I stepped up to him, adrenaline pumping through my warm body as my agitated breaths made my breasts brush against his chest. Unconsciously my eyes glanced at his lips, before I hissed, "We need to talk."

With a snap, he angled his face forward, stopping half an inch from mine, stopping my breath in my chest as his grin oozed sex, "Sure."

I licked my lips and envisioned his taste on those lips as I felt his breath against my mouth. So close, he was so close. Too close.

My breath came crashing back to me and I took a step back. "Outside."

"Okay," Max said slowly and his presence was heated and very solid while walking two steps behind me as I turned and retraced my steps through the cafeteria.

The cafeteria that was basically quiet now. A sense of déjà vu trickled down my neck at the intense and almost empty stares that were following our walk through the room.

But my pulsating anger made it easy to ignore the discomfort their quiet observation of us generated, and I reached the exit of the cafeteria in no time. Turning the corner into the hallway and stomping down the length of the corridor lined with lockers, I broke through the main doors of the high school in a whirlwind of emotions.

"You're making a scene," Max said disapprovingly as soon as we were outside.

I twirled around, eyes burning brightly with tears of hurt and disappointment as I bit out, "Did you know?"

He searched my face, his own clad in seriousness as he took in my upset appearance. "Know what?"

"That you might be able to save me - save us - by sleeping with me?"

His face immediately closed up and he took a step back. He pressed his lips together in a thin line as I dug my nails into the insides of my palms.

"Did you?!"

"It's only a theory," Max said quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, the hurt I felt extremely audible in my question.

It seemed like he was looking for an excuse, which only infuriated me further and I felt my tears build in my eyes. The emotional load was too much.

"Do you find me ugly? Disgusting? What?" I bit the inside of my cheek. "Would it be so horrible to have sex with me?"

He was in my personal space within the blink of an eye, eyes passionately dark and staring down into mine as he spit out emphatically, "I would take you right here, right now, if we weren't standing in a school yard in the middle of the day."

My mouth fell open and just stared at him - rendered speechless - as his jaw clenched and his cheeks flustered beautifully with anger. Instant desire was tightening my stomach and my breath was once again lost as his rapid breaths fanned my face.

"Got it?" he bit out harshly and I found myself numbly nodding.

"Good," he mumbled tensely and took a step back, turning his back on me as he brushed his hands through his hair while commencing an agitated pacing of the ground.

I found my voice somewhere inside the tightest swirl of hurt and desire. "Then why?" I swallowed, my tongue not really cooperating. I could feel his anger vibrate through the air around us, confusing my own anger. "If it could save our lives-"

He swirled around and I swallowed at the dampness in his eyes, making his gaze even darker and more dynamic. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you. Because I didn't want you to feel forced to sleep with me just as a means of survival."

I tensed. "But you would rather I slept with Sean and lose my future to a life of mind control? Gee, thanks for the consideration."

"Sex is already forced upon you - I didn't want to add to that equation," Max grumbled.

I shook my head and said angrily, "No. No. That's not an excuse, Max. You should have informed me so that I at least was part of the decision."

"There's no guarantee of it working anyway," Max fired back. "It would be too dangerous to try. No healer has ever formed a connection with a gaea before. It's against the law."

I frowned. "That doesn't make sense. What if a gaea needs healing? Doesn't that require forming a connection?"

"They've already formed a primary bond with their supposed partner by then, so it won't matter."

"But what if it could be true? That we could 'double-bond' or something."

He ran frustrated hands through his hair again. "And bind us together forever? Possibly irreversibly?"

It was like he had punched me in the stomach. I gasped and took a step back.

I saw his face fall as he realized how that must have sounded. But the harm was already done.

"And that's not something you want?" I croaked, feeling faint.

 _Read the clues, Parker. He doesn't want you. There are too many signs pointing to that._

But I've seen into his mind. I've seen his feelings for me.

He told me he loved me.

Maybe now. But obviously not forever.

As my mind was arguing with itself, Max took a step closer and hissed, "Of course I do!"

"Then what?!" I practically screamed and pushed my hands out to the sides. "What's standing in your way?"

"Your right to a free will," he snapped. "Your right to a normal life with a…" he swallowed tightly, "human."

I rolled my eyes and he squared his shoulders. "I have no free will. No prospect of a normal life. Probably already within 24 hours I will either have sex with you or with Sean." I glared at him in challenge, observing his face paling. "Who's it going to be?" I took a deep breath as he didn't reply immediately. "I'm voting for saving my life here."

"Fine," he snapped and towered above me, his pupils dilated to the maximum. "Let's have sex."

"Fine," I flared.

"Fine," he yelled back, turned on his heel and without another word disappeared inside the school building.

The second the door slammed behind him, I bent forward at the waist, putting my hands on my thighs and tried to inhale.

 _What the hell had just happened?_


	44. FORTY-FOUR

_brokenbride - Well, Max can be really "funny" when he's pissed off ;-) Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 _dootadoot - Ha, yeah I know what you mean. And yes, this whole thing is making one wonder how much more Liz can put up with before she cracks. Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 **FORTY-FOUR**

 _I'll pick you up tonight.  
I'll let you know when I'm outside.  
\- Max_

So, he had finally gotten hold of my number. Or maybe he'd had it this whole time. And now, with his text, I finally had his number. It was really a wonder that we had gone this long without exchanging numbers. But maybe that was just part of Max's 'cover' or whatever. He wasn't really supposed to know me all that well, so why would he have my number in his phone?

I stared at the message, nervousness striking through me like hot lightning. He was serious. He had been serious.

He intended to have sex with me. Tonight.

Of course, I had to break down the message and analyze the meaning of every word, every letter. But there wasn't much to analyze. His text message was straight to the point and very factual.

I had gotten used to Max's ever-changing moods, so our heated exchange earlier didn't really surprise me. But still, I was worried that he was still angry. My worst fear was that he was going along with this just to spite me; shut me up or something. Or that he was just saying what he thought I wanted to hear in the heat of the moment. That he wasn't agreeing to do this because he wanted to, but out of some type of obligation.

Dark doubt was clawing at my heart and the further the day proceeded, the worse I felt. My insides were curled up so tightly that I felt like throwing up. My lack of appetite these last couple of weeks was making my body almost succumb under the extra strain of my emotions.

I had trouble concentrating and giving concrete answers when Maria drilled me for information after lunch. I _had,_ after all, announced that I was in love with Sean and she wanted an explanation. She also wanted to explain that Sean hadn't tried to help me in that boys' locker room, but had tried to force me into doing things I hadn't necessarily consented to.

My answers were vague, mumbled behind the shadow of a hand pressed to my head, feigning a headache to get her to back off. I didn't have to fake the nausea or the fatigue, though. They were very much real.

By the end of the day, a large majority of my nails were bitten down to the quick, my jaw was aching from me subconsciously clenching it, and I felt like I had entered menopause as my body flushed while my mind wandered to Max's body - a naked body - only to a second later chill as my insecurities took over and nausea became prevalent again.

 _Who made an appointment to have sex anyway?_

I had never understood those people who would voluntarily decide to lose their virginity on prom night. A fixed date. Several weeks - months even - knowing what was going to happen on that exact night.

Turning sex into a date on the calendar was a stupid idea. Stupid stupid. So much time to worry and fret, get nervous, insecure, feeling awkward, embarrassed mortified and scared.

Mostly scared.

I was experiencing all the natural human fears a girl might have about losing her virginity. Would it hurt? Was I ready to show myself naked and let him touch me, perhaps in ways I hadn't even touched myself? Would I be enough? Would he be disappointed? How would (could) I satisfy him?

But I was also plagued by unnatural human fears. Because I was about to have sex with an alien. Would we be compatible (well, it had worked for Max's parents, so…)? Could I catch something from him? Could he catch something from me? Would anything weird happen during the act? Powers going haywire?

Maria interrupted my semi-nervous mental breakdown by coming up behind me as I was walking out of the school building and hooking our arms together.

"Can we hang tonight?" she asked, winded.

I swallowed. _No, Ria. I'm busy. I'm losing my virginity tonight._

"Sorry," I whispered, the ground feeling wobbly underneath my feet. "I've got plans."

"Oh," Maria mumbled and her eyes were searching my face. I wondered if she thought I had plans with Sean, but instead she asked me (rather hopefully), "With your dad?"

I hesitated, before nodding. "Yeah."

"Good," Maria said, not disguising her relief very well while tightening her hold on my arm. "You two need some quality time."

I nodded, my agreement faint. "Yeah."

"Are you okay?" Maria asked then and I refrained from rolling my eyes. _Damn._ Why did I even try to hide my emotional status from my best friend?

"Because you've been acting really strange since you pulled Max out of the cafeteria," Maria continued and frowned, a remnant of her anger from the run-in with Sean earlier briefly shading her face. "And I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you off the hook about Sean. You really need to explain to me what's been happening. I'm getting the feeling that he has some kind of hold on you. Does he know something? Something he's using to blackmail you with?" She frowned at her own monologue, not noticing my nervous swallow. "But what would that be? It's not like you lead a secret life or anything…"

She paused and I felt her eyes burrowing through the side of my face at my continued silence. "You're really pale, Lizzie." She hesitated, and I could almost feel her bury her anger and her demand for answers about the Sean situation, before she added tentatively, "What happened between you and Max?"

I was relieved that she seemed to have dropped the Sean topic, even though the topic of Max wasn't really a safer option.

"What did you talk about?" Maria asked.

Another piece of my heart was breaking off as I watched the lies in my life stack up in front of me. "Sean. Isabel told me that Max doesn't like Sean and it really upset me." I glanced at Maria's open face, swallowing back the bitter taste in my mouth. I knew my friend well enough to see that she wanted to comment on that - most likely to agree with Max - but for some reason she held her tongue.

I seized the opportunity presented and I rushed on. "He has no right to have an opinion about Sean, you know. He barely knows me. I had to talk to him about it; set him straight."

There was an apparent struggle of wills on Maria's face when I peered at her. _What was she thinking?_

I imagined her asking more about Max and our talk. I anticipated her picking apart what I had just said and demanding that I explain it.

Instead, "I don't think I've ever seen you so mad," Maria mused contemplatively.

I covered my surprise with a shrug. "Max crossed a line."

Maria narrowed her eyes. "But Max has helped you out. A lot. At that party, when he took us home. He even carried you to the car." She paused for a second, before, "Alex told me that _you_ had told _him_ that Max has helped you when you've been mourning your mom."

I turned my eyes to the ground and mumbled past my nausea, "I was hoping that we could be friends, I guess. He _has_ been there for me, but I'm not looking for anything else but a friend in him."

"And he wants more?"

My heart clenched painfully at the tentative hope in Maria's voice.

 _I'm actually agreeing with your insinuations, Maria. I don't want Sean. I want Max._

But I had to keep up the pretense, in case this whole thing with Max didn't plan out, and I was forced back to sharing my future with Sean.

It was already looking suspicious with me loving Sean one second, then vehemently disliking him the next before going back to being in love with him. I couldn't very well jump straight into saying that I was actually deeply (and irrevocably) in love with Max Evans.

"Yeah," I whispered instead.

We had reached my parked car and I fished the car key up from the side pocket to the backpack, while Maria asked, confused, "Why Sean? What's so great about him?"

A nervous flutter accentuated the chronic nervousness of the day and I focused on putting the key in the lock to avoid looking at Maria. "He's just…great."

 _Lame, Parker. Lame._

"Great, huh?" Maria asked, irritation lacing her voice.

I got the door open and turned to Maria. "I'll talk to you later, okay? We'll get together and do something."

She took my brush-off in stride and nodded emphatically. "Yes. Our girlfriend quality time has been seriously compromised lately."

"Yeah," I whispered while overcome with a sudden deep sadness, and surprised myself by reaching forward and pulling my best friend into a tight hug.

Fighting tears, I mumbled into her cinnamon-smelling hair. "Love you, babe."

The shock was clear in her voice as she got a reply out, "Love you too, chica."

It felt like I was being wrenched apart. The need to speak to her, to let her know about aliens, about the true nature of my mom's death, about Mr. Evans, Isabel and Michael, was crushing me.

I needed to talk to my friend about everything that had happened lately. I needed to talk to a _girl_ about everything only a girl could understand.

Mostly I needed to talk to her about love. About Max.

If possible, I would have killed to have her with me this afternoon, supporting me in my panic about having sex for the first time. She could have helped me pick out the clothes, helped me with make-up, hypothesized what it would feel like, and talk me out of my nervousness until we would be squealing happily about the fact that I was about to have sex with Max Evans.

Instead, I released my hold on her, quickly brushed a traitorous tear off my cheek, before jumping into the car.

Maria was looking at me oddly as she said, slightly dazed, "See ya."

"Yeah," I replied quickly and closed the car door.

* * *

The towel was wrapped tightly around my trembling body. My legs and armpits had been cleanly shaved, and I had spent a fair amount of time frustratedly trying to figure out if I should shave my nether parts in some way or not.

 _Who knew this stuff?_

Now I was in front of the full-sized mirror, my long hair wet and smelling strongly of the strawberry shampoo I loved. I found my reflection biting her lip and stopped, leaning closer to the mirror to scrutinize my face. I critically assessed the shape of my eyebrows, the faint scar tissue between my eyebrows from a biking incident when I was little, the soft bend to the bridge of my nose and the pinkness of my lips. There was a visible flush on my cheeks and my chocolate-colored eyes were bright and shiny.

What did Max see when he looked at me? Did he find me pretty?

I looked over at the chest of drawers where I kept my make-up. Should I put some on or not? Would it look like I tried too much if I did? Would he be disappointed that I hadn't tried hard enough if I didn't?

 _God._

I understood then why I had never bothered to date.

Too much effort. Too many insecurities and self-doubt.

Making sure that my bedroom door was closed, I let the towel drop, looking at my naked shape disparagingly. My shoulders were slender, sprinkled with the tiny freckles and the occasional dark mole. I bit my lip thoughtfully as I looked at my small breasts. Guys wanted big, right? Would he be disappointed?

I forced myself to move on before I became completely afflicted, passing by my small waist and my flat stomach (where my wound had healed quite nicely), across the gentle flare of my hips, to briefly pause at the patch of hair between my legs, before I traced down my slender but short legs.

On instinct, I put my arms over my chest, feeling vulnerable and exposed standing like this. Even if _I_ was the only one looking.

Well, soon it would be one more.

I sighed, feeling more down than before and retrieved the towel from the floor to wrap it around me.

Max hadn't provided me with a pick-up time. So I was stressing out that I would be dressed and ready for too long (making me start to sweat in my clean clothes or something) or not dressed at all.

Once again, I looked in the direction of where I kept my make-up, and consequently jumped as the distinct 'pling' from my phone announced the arrival of a new text message. Turning around, I grabbed the cell phone from its position on top of the bed covers and my heart immediately went into overdrive, my semi-clad body flushing uncomfortably, as I saw the name of the sender.

It was oddly intimate to read his words wearing only a towel.

 _Sean's sitting in his car outside the front of your apartment.  
You had a date tonight, right? It's been taken care of.  
I'll pick you up around the back. Use the fire stairs.  
Be careful. Please.  
\- Max_

My pulse roared in my ears as I was instantly much more stressed than before. He was already here!

Shit!

And I hadn't even decided what to wear yet.

My stress over getting ready distracted me from feeling any worry about the fact that Sean was outside my apartment and stopped me from mulling over what Max had meant when he said that he had 'taken care of' my other plans - with Sean - for the evening.

Instead I sent Max a message containing a short 'Give me five minutes' before diving into the drawer of underwear, trying to find something that could be displayed to a man's eyes without making him lose interest.

At the bottom of the drawer, I had shoved a pair of never-been-used lacy white underwear, given to me by Maria about one year prior. She had done so with the intent of making me reclaim control of my love life, hinting that I should have them ready 'When the time comes.'

I had been a bit embarrassed at the time, scoffing at the gift and being all cocky about me not wearing that kind of underwear. I was all about comfort, wearing mostly cotton, and I had informed Maria that I would never put something else on just to please a guy.

I grimaced and pulled the underwear out, let the towel drop to the floor, and pulled the fine and thin material to my hips.

Now, look at me. Falling for the general norm of what guys wanted. Maria would have a field day.

I even owned a lacy bra, from when I had attended one of my mom's friend's recent weddings and I had to wear a cream-colored dress. My bras were generally plain cotton or comfortable sport bras, not the delicate piece of fabric I was currently positioning around my breasts.

Spotting my reflection in the mirror, I paused, almost thinking I looked kinda…beautiful.

In a girly, innocent kind of way. I almost rolled my eyes at myself.

I inhaled deeply, gathering my strength, and turned to the wardrobe to pick out a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater. Simple. And it didn't look like I'd tried too hard.

I retrieved my cell phone from the bed, put it in my handbag, and was almost out the door when I caught my reflection in the mirror again and noticed that my hair was still wet.

I rolled my eyes at myself and sighed loudly. I quickly plugged the hairdryer in and four minutes later, my hair was dry and I was late. Just before leaving the room I gave in and turned back around, pulled out my mascara and applied a thin layer to the upper lashes.

Grabbing a thin jacket, I hurried past my dad, telling him to "Don't wait up."

"Where're you going, honey?" my dad asked, picking this time to become conscious of his surroundings.

"I'm meeting a friend. I might spend the night."

That wasn't really a lie.

My dad frowned, "It's a school night."

"We have an exam coming up," I said quickly.

I wondered if he would let me leave, considering the danger I had been in not too long ago which had landed me in the hospital.

But after a brief silent argument with himself, he nodded his consent. "Okay. Do you have your phone?"

"Yes," I smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be safe."

Max will protect me. He has secret alien superpowers.

The thought warmed me from head to toe and the smile on my face was genuine as my dad's eyes turned softer. "Okay, honey."

"Love you," I said and opened the front door.

"Love you," he countered just before I shut the door behind me.

At the end of the hallway outside of our apartment door was the exit to the fire escape. It was easier than I thought to get out there. I had never climbed a fire escape before. I saw Max's car in the shadows behind the apartment complex and my nerves hit me full force.

It was like I had never met him before. Like this was our first meeting. I was feeling awfully awkward and wanted desperately to be somewhere else at the same time as I felt like I was exactly where I wanted to be.

He stepped out of the car as I reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned back against the side of the vehicle, crossing his ankles lightly as he stretched out his legs in front of him. He was dressed all in black. Black jeans hugged his lower body, a black T-shirt hinted to the tonicity of his upper body underneath and a black leather jacket added danger and mystery. His eyes burned brightly through the darkness of the night as he watched me approach.

All of the sudden, I was shy. He was exuding sexuality, his gaze almost painfully intense, as he raked his eyes slowly down my body. I felt like I could explode. Right there, right then.

But my body could do nothing else but cover me up in goosebumps.

"Hey," I said quietly.

He slowly pushed away from the car, took a step forward, gently took my cold hand and squeezed it in his warm one, before tugging on it so that I tumbled towards him. I regained my balance shy of crashing into him and a small smile adored his lips before he leaned in and softly kissed me.

My knees trembled. His hold on my hand tightened at the subtle sway of my body and he slowly pulled back, looking at me darkly as he whispered in greeting, "Hey."

Pausing for a second just to look at me (I wondered if he could hear my heart thumping out of my chest), he next took a step back and quickly scanned our surroundings as seriousness and concentration momentarily clouded his enchanting face.

"We should go. We wouldn't want Sean to see us."

I nodded and licked my lips, tightening the grip of my other hand on my jacket to stop myself from plunging it underneath his T-shirt and run my hand up his front.

My face heated as he looked back at me, suddenly embarrassed that he might have heard my thoughts.

I quickly realized that our connection was still 'paused'. Which caused a flutter of disappointment to run through me. It was probably for the best, though. If I had been able to feel not just my own, but his feelings as well in that moment, I probably would turn into a wet puddle on the ground.

He used his free hand to place burning fingers underneath my chin, looking at me worriedly, "You okay?"

My mouth was dry and my body shook with every emotion imaginable as I nodded mutely.

He gave me a soft smile, mumbling, "Okay," before leading me by our connected hands to his car, opening the door to the passenger side and guiding me inside.

In the seconds I had by myself while he closed the door and walked around the back to get to his door, I curled up my fists tightly against my thighs and focused on breathing.

This was really happening. This was really happening.


	45. FORTY-FIVE

_brokenbride - Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 **FORTY-FIVE**

"Try not to think about it," Max said as he drove with his headlights off on back roads from my apartment up to the main road.

He turned on the lights as we turned right, onto road 70, before gently taking my hand, which was resting against my thigh. His fingers curled against the top of my thigh at the motion and I glanced at him, feeling feverish, while he laced our fingers together resting the locking of our hands on my leg.

"About what?" I croaked, my mouth devoid of any saliva. I was so nauseous. So nervous.

He glanced at me again, before returning his attention to the road. I liked it when he drove. It meant that I could watch his face, watch him, inhibited. Without having to be self-conscious about staring at him, while he had to focus on staying on the road.

"Tonight is not about sex, okay?"

My stomach turned and twisted at his honesty. Did he really have to say it out loud like that? This whole thing already burned with awkwardness.

"No?" I questioned, intending for it to sound sarcastic, but it fell flat. My voice was too weak.

He brought our interlocked hands up to his lips and kissed my knuckles. Looking at me briefly, he said quietly, "And it's not about survival either."

"What is it about?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the white interrupted lines in the middle of the road as they swished by with the speed of the car.

He returned our hands to their original position against my thigh and said, "You. And Me."

My heart tried to convince me to relax, that his words were calming and that I was safe with him. But I was too wired up.

"That's what scares me," I said.

He raised the eyebrow closest to me, a tentative grin on his face. "You? Or Me?"

"Us," I said, my voice getting a bit stronger the more I talked to him. His presence was having a soothing effect on me. Even if it was awkward, it actually felt a lot better to talk about it out in the open than to just worry and turn it over in my head. I swallowed and added, "Together."

Silence wrapped around us and I had time to fear that he would pull away, when he said, "I won't hurt you."

His voice was low and raw. But assertive.

"I know you won't," I assured him and hugged my fingers against his. "But what if something happens, outside of your control?"

He looked over at me silently before inhaling, "Aliens have been having sex with humans for a long time, Liz. Many times."

I was blushing. Again. Whenever he alluded to us being together in that way, I couldn't help but picture him, and my body was assaulted with an inexplicably strong longing for his body.

But I couldn't quite let it go. "What if we're different?"

"So," he licked his lips. I watched. "What are you afraid will happen?"

"I don't know," I mumbled. How _could_ I know?

A grin crept onto his lips and he said, "Are you afraid that the pleasure will be so out of this world that you will self-combust?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Death by orgasm?"

He looked at me, his grin turned into a genuine smile. "What a way to go."

I laughed quietly, some of the tension in my body easing off. "So there's nothing that can go wrong?"

He slowly pulled the smile back, answering honestly, "As long as we trust each other, nothing can go wrong."

He sounded so sure of himself. So calm. Wasn't he nervous at all?

"So," I said, already regretting that I had asked before I finished posed the question. "Have you done it before?"

He was one of the more popular boys of Roswell High after all. But on the other hand, he was also a hybrid. Maybe he wasn't that much into 'experimenting' just for the fun of it. Too much at risk.

Did sex with an alien _always_ lead to a connection or was that something that the alien deliberately initiated?

I frowned, getting distracted by my thoughts.

If the aliens - and hybrids - don't have any control over when to connect, they would never be able to have causal sex. Right? It would be too dangerous. Too risky.

I bit the inside of my cheek, my inner monologue distressing me. _Perhaps casual sex equalled memory wipes._

Max's slow reply ripped me out of my thoughts. "I've done stuff."

My distress shifted to instant disappointment. Which was an irrational reaction. Why should I be disappointed? He's had a life before me.

"'Stuff'?" I asked, trying to keep the tone of my voice light and casual. Like I didn't care one bit. Like his answers didn't have the power to rip me apart.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and kept his eyes on the road. "I've never gone all the way."

My body must have believed him, because I felt myself sagging with relief, and his quiet chuckle told me that he had noticed. "Happy about that, huh?"

"I just-" I shook my head in amusement at my feelings and my irrationality. "It's just nice to know that I'm not completely alone in this."

"Oh no," he said slowly, his voice husky, stroking my skin like the softest caress, "You're never alone in this."

I worried my lip, dropping my eyes to my lap, shifting my gaze to watch his large hand intimately interlaced with mine. I was very much aware of the feeling of his hand pressed against mine. That small physical bridge between our bodies made my heart flutter nervously.

Naturally, I whispered, "Aren't you nervous?"

He surprised me by laughing quietly and I looked up at him curiously.

"I'm shitting myself."

My responding laughter was one of relief mixed with incredulity. My request for clarification was hopeful, "Really?"

"I don't know if you've been able to tell, Elizabeth Parker," Max said slowly, his voice dropping an octave. I swallowed with restlessness as heat burned from the most secret parts of me throughout the rest of my body. "But you're it for me."

His words echoed in my head as I tried to make sense of them. Did he really mean…?

"I've always wanted you. I've always watched you, knowing that I could never have you. Knowing that - because of your genetic material - you were meant for the military. You're the most bewitching person… When you walk into a room, it brightens. And I'm not just saying that; everything really gets brighter around you."

I was becoming numb by his beautiful words, flattered and uncomfortable (by that same flattery) at the same time. So I mumbled for him to stop, before I would break down and confess my undying love for him, "Max…"

"I never meant to throw you to the shark, you know," Max said, his voice turning colder and his jaw tightened with guilt along with his left hand around the steering wheel. There was no question about which 'shark' he was referring to. "I had, like Isabel probably told you, thought about the possibility that us bonding in every way possible perhaps could help us unify the bond and save us. To strengthen the bond so that we could fight back."

A small flame of anger flickered in my heart as he brought up the fight we'd had earlier today. I still hadn't really forgiven him for that.

"But I didn't want to only give you a choice between having sex with one person or another. It's bad enough that you're forced into making a choice that should be yours only, without me pushing you."

"You made it sound like there was no way out," I said, my body tight. I was thinking about that night out in the desert, when Max had pleaded with me to come up with a solution to our 'small' problem.

A shiver of anger vibrated though the tight hold on my emotions as I realized what the look I had caught in his eyes that night had been about. He had been considering the third option.

But he had refrained from telling me, indirectly making me believe that I had no future. That _we_ had no future.

"I know." He exhaled frustratedly. "I don't know why. Maybe I didn't say anything because of fear."

I frowned. "Fear?" He wasn't the one that was destined to be raped.

But my confusion was immediately replaced by an uncomfortable feeling of concern. Was this because of him breaking the law? The frown marring my eyebrows deepened. But he hadn't seemed much bothered by being punished before; basically letting me know that he would take any beating there was if it would make me safe. So why now? Why would he be scared now?

His reply surprised me, being very far from what I had expected, "That you would reject me."

If his voice hadn't been so vulnerable, his face so open, I would have laughed at the absurdity of it. Instead I just gaped at him. "You can't be serious…" The idea of me rejecting him sounded absolutely ludicrous.

"I've always hated my alien side," Max supplied, his eyes firmly on the road. He seemed to be struggling to get the words out. "I've had my moments of self-disgust and self-hate." He glanced at me before continuing, "The thought of someone knowing that I was part alien and therefore finding the thought of being with me abhorrent, is enough for me to just not offer it as an option."

"Max-"

"I know it was wrong," Max hurried as he interrupted. "I know I was jeopardizing your freedom, and I've sworn to never let you get hurt-" He cut himself off by hitting his left hand against the steering wheel.

I jumped and he immediately looked at me and squeezed my hand. "Sorry." He took a deep breath, probably trying to pull back his anger. "I'm just stupid. I can't even justify why I would put you in that position. I mean - Sean could have-" He stopped mid-sentence with a disgusted groan.

"Yes," I whispered. "You should have told me. And yes, it was a very stupid thing to do. More than that. Dangerous. I could have died." I swallowed. "I still could. If this doesn't work."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn't done, " _But,_ most importantly, you're an idiot, Max Evans."

He swung his head towards me, the car drifting sideways before he quickly pulled it back on track, his eyes still on me. Confused shock edged into his facial features.

"You're a complete idiot for thinking that I would ever find you disgusting. That I wouldn't want to touch you or be close to you. That alien side of you; I _admire_ that side of you. I can't speak for your fellow aliens, but in you - your alien side is amazing."

I inhaled and continued fiercely with the exhalation, "You can _heal_ , Max. You supply life. That's incredible."

I looked closely at his profile, the borderline defensive tension in his body, the almost compulsive way he was staring out the windshield, and I finished resolutely, "Plus; you're an idiot because you thought I wouldn't want to sleep with you to save my life, even though I have already told you that I'm in love with you. I don't tell people that lightly. Except for my dad and Maria, I've actually never told anyone that before."

I saw his Adam's apple bop as he swallowed, his grip tight on the steering wheel, his fingers hugging mine almost painfully.

"You were not completely unprotected last night, you know," he mumbled, tempting the frown back on my forehead.

And then he throws me another curveball.

"What do you mean?"

"I sent someone to watch you…" he paused. "When I couldn't."

Because he had been enduring his subzero punishment at the time. His admission made me consider if Max had ever watched over me. Before we had reached 'bonded'-status.

Pushing that piece of theory to the side, I asked, "Who?"

"Alex," Max replied simply and shot me a quick glance, insecurity flickering in his gaze. "He told you yesterday, didn't he? About who he is?"

I pressed my lips together and turned my eyes forward. _Yes, he told me that he was my protector. Something that I think_ you _should've told me a long time ago._

Instead of waiting for my confirmation, Max said, "I didn't get a chance to get in touch with him before meeting you in the Eraser Room. The plan was for him to contact either me or Isabel if something had happened with you and Sean last night, but since he didn't-"

I narrowed my eyes in thought. "So how much does Alex know? How much of Sean's visit did he witness?"

"Everything, I gather," Max said slowly and I felt a faintness flow through me.

Not because Alex had been watching over me, not even because he hadn't interrupted Sean (that I knew of, anyway), or that he hadn't mentioned anything to me today at school.

But because Max had gone along with my fears and _examined_ me, when Alex would have told him if Sean had had sex with me. Rendering the examination unnecessary.

I looked at him briefly, my heart thrumming a worrisome beat in my chest, and I felt betrayed. Violated was too strong a word, but Max had essentially touched me in a very non-platonic way when it wasn't even necessary.

And now I had agreed to have sex with him. I suddenly didn't know how I felt about that.

"What?" he whispered and for the first time since this whole thing started, I didn't want to be in the same car as him.

His hand around mine now burnt against my palm in another way as I vaguely tried to figure out if I should release his hand or not.

First Max goes on about wanting me to be able to choose for myself, not wanting to tell me the _one_ option that could possibly save my whole existence just so that I could be free or some kind of bullshit like that. Then he readily steps up and touches me in a very sexually-

He sighed, apprehension in that exhalation of breath. "What did I say?"

"You really have to stop lying to me," I whispered. I was so angry that I could barely sit still.

"That was not a lie," Max replied evenly, but I could see the worry flash in his eyes before he redirected them to the road.

"I'm not talking about Alex or your attempt at keeping me safe," I bit out. "I'm talking about earlier, when I asked you to check if my virginity was still intact and you went along with it-"

He frowned. "Yes?"

"Why?" My voice was a low roar. "There was obviously no need to, since Alex would have told you if Sean had touched me like that."

"Liz-" he started but the shake of my head interrupted him.

"No, Max. No." Unshed tears of anger, hurt and vulnerability burnt my eyes. "You can't just expect me to trust you when you keep messing with my head."

He hit the brakes so abruptly that the seatbelt snapped sharply against my collarbone as the car slid to a hasty stop by the side of the road.

"What is wrong with you?!" I cried as he turned in his seat in the now still car.

His eyes were blazing, making my breath hitch, as he focused all of his attention on me. "Listen to me."

I stared at him in defiance, but gave him the floor to explain himself.

"Like I _told you_. I hadn't gotten a status report from Alex by the time I met you in the Eraser Room. I was trying to get a hold of him, because frankly, your note scared the hell out of me, but he wasn't answering his phone and no one had seen him."

I glared at him, crossing my arms across my chest. _Well, that's odd, Max, because I had no trouble finding Alex earlier._

He frowned at my glare and I could see the anger building in his eyes - in him. "Don't look at me like that. That's the truth."

I still refused to speak, which made him sigh in frustration before continuing, "Isabel was supposed to tell Alex to get a hold of either her or me if you were in real danger or if you were…" His eyes flashed with such rage that I swallowed, my defiance momentarily hiding in the face of that raw emotion, "…being assaulted. But Alex never contacted any of us. So I assumed that Carter had just worked on getting into your mind and nothing else. But then you start talking about him having sex with you and I wasn't sure if Alex hadn't been able to contact me or if something had happened that he wasn't aware of."

I shook my head, my anger naturally bringing me back to our previous argument. "I still can't believe that you would risk it - risk him _raping_ me when you knew of another option."

His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing in anger as he returned my glare. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, his left eye twitching.

I sighed, feeling disappointed, hurt and betrayed - most of all betrayed - as I turned forward, breaking eye contact with him, and signaled for him to get back on the road. "Let's just do this, Max. Get on with it."

A ripple of something powerful moved through the interior of the car and his intense voice sent shivers (of lust, oddly enough) down my spine as he slowly enunciated, "I would _never_ touch you like that without your permission. I would never take advantage of a situation like that, just so that I could feel you up." I flushed as he continued, practically growling, as my whole body tightened with burning desire. "And don't ever call what we have a task; something that needs to be done."

Unfairness coupled with defensiveness exploded in me, disintegrating the desire his darkness seemed to ignite in me, before I whipped my head towards him. I was briefly distracted by the vivid emotions on his face, before I got out, "How else am I supposed to feel about it? You're so confusing."

He leaned in closer, bending over the gear shift, as he said slowly, "What I did was wrong, okay? I should have let you in on the possibility that us bonding physically could work to strengthen the connection we already have. I get that. I really really wish that I could go back in time and do it in another way. But I can't, so we're stuck with me being an idiot and screwing this up. I was not going to let you get hurt. I was trying to buy us time until I found a way to discuss that option with you without me feeling like the villain, forcing myself on you. In the meantime, I was trying to keep you safe from Sean, the only way I knew how. To make him believe that he had you. That his attempt at controlling your mind was working. But not letting him fully bond with you."

I heard what he was saying, but, "What would you have done if he had tried to have sex with me, huh?" My tone was challenging him, needing him to convince me before I returned to wanting to trust him. "Would Alex had burst into my room like the skinny white guy he is and saved the day? Huh?"

Max narrowed his eyes in disapproval and grumbled, "Something like that."

But I got the feeling from his response that not even _that_ was completely true. I had started to think that Alex - being assigned as my protector by the same aliens who were trying to use me - was not allowed to protect me against the person that I was supposed to bond with.

If Alex were to protect me from Sean, he would be breaking the law.

"Huh," I said in a disbelieving tone and leaned back against the backrest, looking away from him. "I just don't understand why you couldn't be honest about it. Why you couldn't let me know that Isabel and Alex were on our side. That you wouldn't inform me that I was not alone - instead letting me work up a paralyzing fear for meeting up with Sean, to do something that _we_ had agreed on. Why you couldn't let me know that you were stalling."

"And we're back to that," Max filled in bitterly. "That I was hiding a third solution from you."

I exhaled. "Exactly."

He pulled back into his seat, brushing his hands through his hair. "I'm just trying to do this right. Just like you are. There's no 100% safe road here and I'm trying to navigate it so that you'll get the least hurt."

If we had just met, that would have sounded ridiculous; him trying to get me 'the least hurt'. But unfortunately, it felt as if I was becoming an expert on this new life situation, and I understood perfectly what he meant. There was no completely safe method here. Either _he_ was going to get hurt (which he had) or _I_ was (which I also had). There were only variations in how much.

"Besides," his voice lowered and he spoke almost as if to himself, "I couldn't be sure that Sean wouldn't stumble upon any of your thoughts while trying to mind control you. If he were to see that we were stalling, that we were considering having sex to annihilate his bond with you, that would put you in great danger. Lethal, probably. So it was best that you didn't know. Until I had it all figured out. Until I was sure that I wasn't making you do something you didn't want to."

He took a deep breath. "I've seen that you have feelings for me." He dropped his eyes and his voice was very soft, almost vulnerable, as he acknowledged, "I understand that you do. Even outside of the bond."

 _Well, hallelujah_ , I thought, a bit too sarcastically. Good thing it was only my inside voice.

"But having feelings for someone is still a far step from sharing your body so intimately with that person."

I bit my bottom lip and found myself speechless. I even felt a little bad about my outburst. He had a point with all of the things he had just said. Of course he had a point. And embedded deeply within that point was oddly enough yet another way in how he was trying to work around the rules and still protect me.

But I still felt upset that he would consider - even after admitting that he now understood my feelings for him - that I wouldn't want to have sex with him. Not even to see if it would work. If it would somehow save us.

Silence lowered itself in the car for a second, us both staring through the windshield into the night engulfing us.

I broke the silence by, "You should really buy your sister something beautiful, because by telling me something you _didn't_ \- out of irrational fear and condemning self-criticism - she might have just saved both of our lives. And she has prevented my first sexual experience from being with Sean Carter."

Max didn't say anything. He was still as a statue for several long seconds, before he mumbled - almost grumpily, "I really should get her something."

And to my own surprise, I started laughing, the feelings in me needing release - having reached stupid proportions - and I felt the tension in my body ease off.

He looked over at me, a small smile on his face mixing with surprise at my reaction, and a softness in his eyes that I couldn't quite name or categorize.

"I really am sorry, Liz," he said, the smile dying on his lips. "I was trying to protect you from getting hurt, still I managed to hurt you."

I nodded silently, the laughter running out of me just as quickly as it had arrived. I was not sure if I was ready to forgive him yet. Instead, I watched him start the car and turn back onto the road.

I inhaled deeply and tried to rearrange my thoughts. Get all my ducks back in a row.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my focus on the road. Excluding Max's small 'break' on the side of the road, we had been driving for almost half an hour now and I briefly wondered if he was kidnapping me - actually taking me underground like he had suggested just this morning.

"My parents own a house in Hondo," Max replied and looked at me with darkening eyes. "We'll be alone there."

And we were back to that. Immediately I was thrown back into the purpose of this whole car trip.

My breath trembled in my chest and I directed my eyes to the road, extremely aware of his lingering gaze on the side of my face as I licked my lips.

My nervousness had returned.

Alone. Alone in a house. With Max.


	46. FORTY-SIX

_brokenbride - Yes, Max feels that he really needs to be as honest as possible with Liz right now; to make her trust him. He doesn't want to "move things to the next level" if she doesn't trust him. She means too much to him to jeopardize this. Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 **FORTY-SIX**

Max placed the bag of groceries he had retrieved from the back of the car on the kitchen counter, dropping the house keys unceremoniously next to it, as I stood awkwardly just inside the front door - uncertain what to do with myself.

The house was big (of course), but in comparison to the mansion Max normally lived in, this house was small and quaint. It was decorated in a modern and minimalistic style, with sleek black counter tops, white walls and flooring, and cleanly cut furniture.

It was like stepping straight into a decorating magazine. It lacked warmth. With its bare and minimalistic style and a distinct lack of any personal touches the house felt a lot more alien than their home in Roswell, which had a lot more softening wooden features and antique furniture.

"Are you just gonna hang there by the door?" Max interrupted my scanning of the interior.

I gave him a brief smile and walked up to the counter. Thrumming my fingers distractedly against the surface of the counter, I watched Max pull food items out of the paper bag.

"Are you here a lot?" I asked conversationally.

He glanced at me before he turned to the cupboard and retrieved two wine glasses. "Some periods I spend a lot of time here. We hold meetings here."

 _We._ As in aliens.

I was still trying to get my head around this whole alien concept. For some reason, it was not difficult to accept that Max was alien - that he was different. But I had a harder time accepting that there were more like him - many more. And that they were having organized meetings, like a regular community.

"As in town meetings?"

He grinned and took a wine bottle off the wall. "Something like that."

I nodded thoughtfully before I focused on what he was doing. My brows knitted together. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making you dinner," Max said simply, loudly scrunching up the paper bag and making a show out of throwing it in the garbage can, imitating a basketball player. Of course, he scored.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop my smile as I grumbled, "Show-off…"

He winked at me before commencing the task of opening the wine bottle. "You need to eat." He looked at me as the cork popped loose, admonished concern in his eyes. "Don't think I haven't noticed that you haven't exactly been eating lately."

I blushed and dropped my eyes in embarrassment. It was not like I had intentionally refrained from eating. My emotional nausea was making it really difficult. But I felt guilty when Max was looking at me like that.

"You're not worried about me, are you?" I asked lightly.

"Constantly," he mumbled and his tone was so serious that I had to look up, finding him looking at me closely.

My heart missed a beat and, on reflex, I crawled behind the facade of keeping the conversation light. "Do you even know how to cook?"

His face broke into a smile.

How could he be so relaxed? So calm and collected? So beautiful?

"I make some mean pancakes," he announced, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I laughed, climbing onto one of the bar stools positioned at the back of the kitchen island, facing the kitchen, and replied doubtfully, "Uh-huh."

He narrowed his eyes at me before focusing on pouring us white wine. "You don't believe me?"

"No no," I objected quickly, happiness in my chest. "I believe you."

"Good," he said, grabbed the foot of one of the wine glasses, walked around the counter, leaned in and gave me such a sweet and innocent kiss on the forehead that my heart possibly melted, before he transferred the wine glass to my hand, our hands brushing with electricity.

I looked up at him, working hard to keep my voice light as I questioned, "Wine?"

That's very grown-up of him.

"You need some help to relax," he said with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

I pursed my lips in mock disapproval. "You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?"

"Oh, Ms. Parker," he mumbled, his voice lowering intimately as his eyes traveled to my lips, "For what I've got planned, I want you very conscious and highly aware."

My breath caught and I gulped, staring at him.

He pulled back, gave me another sexy wink and gestured towards the wine glass which was trembling forgotten in my hand. "So not too much." He reached over and rescued the wine glass from my trembles, setting it down on the table before looking back at me. "And not too much on an empty stomach."

I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile. "Yes, sir."

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he turned his back to me and retrieved a plastic package from his pile of unpacked groceries. He threw the package on the counter in front of me with the command of, "Eat."

I pursed my lips as I eyed the package. _So bossy._

My eyebrows rose curiously as I grabbed the package to see what it contained, "Cookies?"

"Yup," Max said simply over the ruckus he was making while slamming with pots and bowls inside a kitchen drawer.

"So, cookies for starters," I said slowly, "and pancakes as the main course." I looked at him amused. "Interesting."

He looked up from his search through the kitchen equipment, popped a plastic bowl onto the counter, and delivered that charming half-smile of his. When only one corner of his mouth would rise and there would be a charming self-consciousness and sheepishness in his eyes.

"Introducing the alien diet," he announced and pulled out another drawer.

"Sugar?" I suggested questioningly.

That was unfair. I had seen his body (my smile momentarily froze at the memory of his white shivering naked body on an ice cold white floor) and it was not the body of someone whose diet was consisting predominately of carbohydrates.

He produced a ladle from the drawer, adding it to the empty bowl, and winked at me. "I'm all for the sweetness."

My face heated at the - not so well - hidden insinuation in his sentence and I shook my head in amusement.

"What?" he asked innocently while busying himself with adding flour and baking powder to the bowl.

"You," I said slowly. "I like you like this."

He picked up the package of sugar and poured from it into the dry mixture. I grimaced at the amount. Those pancakes probably wouldn't need any syrup or sugar on top…

"Like what?" he asked and reached for a pinch of salt.

"Happy," I mused and his movements paused for a second, before he pretended to not have been affected by what I had said and mixed the dry ingredients together.

"It's because I'm with you," he said simply and I smiled, shaking my head again.

"No… You're usually angry or annoyed when you're with me. This… This is different."

He looked up at me, ironically - considering what I had just accused him of - looking a bit annoyed, and protested, "I'm not angry when I'm with you."

I scoffed with amusement. "Yes you are! You're either scolding me or yelling at me."

He frowned. "No, I don't."

I laughed softly. "You're doing it now," and added teasingly, "You're feeling it coming on right now, aren't you?"

"Well," he grumbled, momentarily turning his back on me to retrieve milk from the refrigerator. "It's only because being around you is very…" he paused, as if at a loss of the appropriate term, "… _frustrating_."

I took a sip of my wine and looked at him over the rim of the wine glass. "But that's entirely your fault."

He looked over his shoulder at me with an eyebrow raised in incredulity. "It's my fault that you're frustrating?"

"Yes," I said simply, stating a very obvious fact.

Closing the refrigerator door with his foot, milk carton in hand, he narrowed one disapproving eye at me while I hid my smile behind the wine glass, before he started whisking the milk into the pancake mixture. He refrained from answering, but I could tell from the relaxed stance of his body as he turned his back to me, while reaching out to turn on the stove, that he was not annoyed with my statement. He was only playing along.

"So," I said, dragging the single syllable out while I placed the wine glass on the surface of the kitchen island and absent-mindedly dragged my finger along the rim. "What's Isabel like?"

He threw an amused expression over his shoulder at me, before closing the refrigerator door after having retrieved butter. "You wanna talk about my sister now?"

I shrugged, even though he couldn't see me. "I don't really know much about any of you."

There was a moment of silence, before he answered, his back to me, "She's okay, I guess."

My finger traced down the rounded curve of the wine glass, stopping short of reaching the top of the foot before heading back up again. "Are you close?"

"I guess," Max said, clicking some butter into the frying pan and turning around to face me. Leaning back against the counter, that amusement was still ingrained in his features as he asked, "Did she say anything to you? I mean, besides basically telling you that having sex with me would solve all of your problems?"

I blushed and dropped my eyes, but something in the center of my body dared to ask, "Won't it?"

I heard his breath catch, before he laughed softly, "I think you just raised the bar, Ms. Parker."

I drowned my smile by bitting my bottom lip as I looked up at him. I swallowed and I wasn't really sure how I found the nerve to say, "My standards are very high, Mr. Evans."

He pursed his lips, his eyes dancing with mirth and a touch of mischief. "I know."

I inhaled deeply, slowly, trying to break out of the spell that his eyes seemed to tangle me up in, licked my lips and cleared my throat. " _Are you_ close?"

He looked at me silently for a second, before he pushed off the counter and turned towards the stove, to move the frying pan around, coating the frying surface with the melting butter. "Yeah. You could say that."

"Is there anyone else?" I asked tentatively. "That you're close to?"

And added silently, _Is there anyone else that you can talk to? That would help you out when your own race is torturing you?_

He turned back to look at me, reaching out to take his own glass of wine and taking a slow sip, his eyes slowly tracing my face, down my throat, down my upper body.

My mouth went dry and I nervously grabbed my own wine glass, hoping that it might cool me off in the heat of his gaze.

"No," he said shortly.

I frowned. No one? "What about Michael?"

Max had already, in not so many words, described Michael as not being a friend of his. But they were always around each other. They must have some kind of relationship.

Max shook his head. "Michael and I… We don't really have that much in common."

I searched his face, looking for sadness or regret at the lack of a meaningful relation between him and Michael, but Max seemed perfectly unaffected. Maybe he didn't need a male friend.

"Don't you want a guy to hang out with and do-," I scrunched my nose as I searched for the phrase, "-'guy things' with?"

His eyes softened and warmed. Placing his glass on the counter, he crossed the space to the island, leaned over the counter and gently took one of my hands in his. Threading his fingers slowly with mine, causing a deep feeling of desire to weave through me as the sides of his fingers languidly slid against the sides of mine, he looked at me in that all-consuming way he did. "Are you worried about my social network?"

I laughed nervously, trembling from the effect his proximity was having on me. "Just curious."

His facial features settled into contemplation as his eyes slowly traced every detail of my face and I felt my body temperature slowly rise with every silent second.

Then he leaned in closer, bringing his lips so close to mine that I could feel his breath caress my lips. My breath was fluttering like a restless butterfly in my chest as I challenged myself to meet his eyes.

"Relax," he commanded quietly, the hint of a grin hiding in the corners of his perfectly shaped mouth.

"You're making that kinda impossible," I returned in a whisper.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dropping to my mouth, and his fingers squeezed around mine. His eyes turned darker and I heard his breathing change before he looked back up at me. His voice shot straight to my most untouched parts as he murmured huskily, "You're irresistible."

I bit my lower lip and he groaned at the act, the sound deliciously tightening my body. My voice was barely a breath as I said, "Ditto."

He took a deep breath and there was a palpable struggle in his eyes, before he pulled back and broke the spell. I became aware of the sound of warm butter popping in the frying pan as Max slowly pulled his hand away from mine, separating our fingers.

"You're gonna be the death of me," Max grumbled with a dark look as he turned towards the frying pan.

I focused on the general public's usage of that phrase, rather than taking it literally.

With his back towards me, releasing me from his attention, a nervous breath flew through me and I unconsciously clenched my thighs together, trying to alleviate some of the ache which seemed to have become a permanent fixture in my body lately.

How was I going to make it through dinner without combusting?

Who needed food anyway? What was the purpose of prolonging the agony?

I could see what he was trying to do, however; trying to do this the right way and not rush things. To make me less nervous and more relaxed.

But it really wasn't working. It was not a feeling of wanting to 'get it over with', but a feeling of wanting to 'get under him'.

Heat scorched up my throat at the thought and I found myself tracing the lines of his back, down his nicely shaped behind. It sure was a shame that he was wearing clothes-

He turned around and I immediately dropped my head, diverted my eyes, feeling like I had been caught doing something very wrong.

And I was pretty sure that he got a sense of what I was doing the second he laid eyes on my bent down flushed face, because there was amusement in his voice as he said, "I'm not hearing the beautiful crunching sound of you eating any cookies."

 _Eat? Again, who could eat right now?_

I looked up at him, starting to say, "I'm not-" when the disapproving shake of his head interrupted me and he leaned forward to grab the (still) unopened bag of cookies in front of me.

Ripping it open (and I almost laughed at myself as I felt the heat in my body shoot up another notch as his biceps contracted with the motion ( _Why was he so damn hot?_ ), he retrieved a chocolate chip cookie and offered it to me with a smooth wink.

It was as if he was offering something completely different than just a cookie.

Before I could put a damper on my own reactions, I inhaled sharply and quickly snagged the cookie out of his hand, ignoring the way my heart jumped a beat as the sensitive tips of my fingers brushed his.

He grinned before faking a stern look, saying, "At least two, Miss."

I rolled my eyes and took a bite out of the cookie, feeling crumbles linger on my lips as I started chewing. I automatically started to lick my lips to remove them when I glanced up and noticed Max's heated eyes tracing my every move.

I froze in the line of his gaze before deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine. With a small smile teasing the edges of my mouth, I resumed licking my lips. This time slowly, making sure to trace my whole upper lip with just the tip of my tongue.

My breath was frozen in my chest as I watched him swallow slowly, his eyes widening.

Having removed all the crumbs, plus some imaginary ones for effect, a slow smile spread across my lips as I hitched my chin towards the stove. "I think your pancake's burning."

"Huh?" he asked unintelligently, a trickle of confusion in his eyes.

"Your cooking needs your attention, chef," I clarified and couldn't help but laugh as his eyes widened with realization before spinning around with a curse and fumbling to get an appropriate grip on the spatula in his hand to flip the pancake over.

I happily finished the cookie, being pleased that I had managed to temporarily discombobulate the smooth Max Evans.

The delicious combination of crunchy cookie with embedded chocolate chips had ignited my dormant appetite and I naturally reached for a second cookie as Max busied himself with retrieving plates from the kitchen cabinet.

I finished chewing on a bite of the cookie and asked lightly, referring to the pancake, "Did you save it?"

He snorted, shooting me an indignant look over his shoulder. "It doesn't need any healing."

I laughed under my breath and shook my head. "That's a relief."

Max removed the (probably) slightly burnt pancake from the frying pan and said quietly, "I would rather not form a connection with a pancake."

At the comical mental image that elicited, I inhaled too sharply, making some crumbles fall on the edge to my windpipe and I started coughing.

He was by my side in no time, worriedly brushing his warm hands up and down my back while I waved him off, coughing.

"You okay?"

I wordlessly tried to deflect his concern, while reaching for the wine glass.

"I'm getting you some water," Max said quickly and left to search the cabinets for a glass.

As he returned, shaded in a cloak of concern, with a glass of water, my coughing had removed the crumbs from the wrong place and I was feeling embarrassed. My eyes were teary from the coughing when I, with a brief smile, accepted the glass of water.

He was looking at me closely, gently brushing his hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ear and letting the tips of his fingers flutter unconsciously, but enticingly, down the side of my neck.

"I'm okay," I answered his unspoken question with a croak. I glanced up at him, took note of the lingering concern in his eyes, and added, "No healing required."

He remained quiet, his body tense as he searched my face, while I tried to distract myself from his gaze by emptying the glass of its contents.

As I placed the empty glass on the counter, he seemed to have reached the conclusion that the danger was averted and said quietly, "Good."

With a lingering look at me, he walked around the counter, grabbing the bag of cookies on the way, scrunching the opening up and unceremoniously throwing it into a cabinet.

I raised my eyebrows and asked innocently, "No more cookies?"

"No more cookies," he confirmed hard-set.

I squeezed my lips firmly together to prevent myself from laughing. Mr. Hybrid Alien was taking over-protectiveness to a whole new level.

For the next ten minutes, Max busied himself with getting the pancakes ready and repeatedly refused my offered help as he decked the table and even lit candles. Lastly, he took a bottle of maple syrup from the pantry in one hand before walking around the counter and gently taking my hand in his other.

I reached out and grabbed the foot of the almost finished wine glass as he laced our fingers together and gently guided me in the direction of the dining table.

He placed the bottle of golden sweet thick liquid on the table, before stepping around behind me, slowly brushing his front against my back (I shivered with delightful anticipation) as he crowded me to reach out and pull out the chair next to us.

He straightened up behind my still body, making me incredibly aware of his body as he pressed up against me, his lips brushing against the gentle curve between my neck and shoulder as he reached out and took the wine glass from my suddenly paralyzed hand.

His front seemed to mold with my back as he slightly bend us forward so that he could reach the table in order to set the glass down. His lips were lightly fluttering against my skin the whole time. When both of his hands were free, he circled his arms around my waist and pulled me back even tighter against his torso.

I wasn't breathing. Couldn't breathe. He placed a light kiss behind my ear as silence wrapped around us comfortably.

"Let's eat," he mumbled, causing vibrations to spread through my whole body.

What?

"What?" My mind had shut down. Effective immediately.

I heard the amusement in his voice as his husky voice clarified, "Pancakes."

"Oh." I blushed and let the air flow back into my lungs as he loosened the grip on my heated body and let me take the provided seat.

I ran my hands over my warm cheeks and through my hair as he left me alone at the table for a second to turn off the ceiling light. The lit candles flickered in the small breeze stirred by Max's movement as he took a seat next to me.

Not opposite me. But so close next to me that the side of his thigh brushed against mine.

He reached out and squeezed my hand briefly, before turning his attention to stacking pancakes on my plate.

"Um…" I watched the pile grow in front of me. He did know I was a girl, right? "That's…probably enough."

"You need to eat," Max said simply and added another pancake to the mountain on my plate, making it a total of six thick fluffy pancakes.

I looked at him incredulously. Did he really want me so full that I couldn't move? Wouldn't that be a major obstacle to his plan?

"Maybe I shouldn't correct my food deficiency all in one night," I said pointedly. "Unless you want me unresponsive due to sugar coma…"

He met my eyes, the light from the lit candles casting incredible shadows over his face. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he next reached over and started to return the pancakes to the original serving plate, leaving only two pancakes on my own plate.

I bit my lip in amusement. Right. "I guess that's a 'no'."

He chose to ignore my comment and instead reached for the maple syrup, inquiring, "Liquid glucose?"

Remembering the amount of sugar he had added to the batter, I slowly shook my head. "Um…. I think I'll just taste them first."

There was pure self-confidence in his smirk as he doused a generous amount of maple syrup on his own pile of pancakes. "Trust me, they'll be the best pancakes you'll ever eat."

"I guess you don't get cavities," I mumbled and pulled off a corner of the warm pancake with my fingers before popping it into my mouth.

Max shrugged, bumping his thigh teasingly against mine under the table, while he speared the top pancake with his fork. "Perfect health."

My eyes drifted closed as I chewed the small piece of pancake. Maybe it was just because I hadn't really eaten much lately and that I was actually working up an appetite, or maybe Max's pancakes were really heavenly, but a moan escaped me before I could stop it and I flushed while belatedly covering my mouth with my hand.

Embarrassed, I looked at Max. Of course he was grinning, happily munching away on his concoction of sugar products, and said around a mouthful, "Good, huh?"

I rolled my eyes and admitted, "Yeah."

He held up the maple syrup again. "Change your mind?"

The pancakes were really sweet though. Which was probably why they tasted fantastic. So I just shook my head. "No, still fine."

I rolled the pancake up and decided to eat it like a burrito, enjoying every bite, feeling comfort and happiness spreading through my body. My eyes were closed through most of it, but it didn't shut out the suspicion that he was probably watching me the whole time.

Having devoured the first pancake in record time, I opened my eyes and met Max's eyes. He didn't even bother to pretend that he hadn't been staring. With honest seriousness, and a touch of surprise, I said, "These are actually very good, Max."

He winked. "Told you so."

"Do you cook a lot at home?"

He huffed and stabbed the next pancake on his plate, which was already swimming in syrup. "I wouldn't necessarily call this cooking, but yeah-" he shrugged, "-it happens."

And he could cook. Probably.

Why was I not surprised?

He reached out and took my hand. I looked at our entwined hands, feeling the nervousness trickle up my arm.

 _Oh, the effect he had on me._

Whether he knew it or not, he had me completely at his mercy.

"The alcohol is not having its effect on you yet, is it?" he asked, almost tentatively.

"And what effect is that?" I asked him. On the contrary I was feeling a lot from the alcohol. There was an unfamiliar warmth in my body, a comfortable dizziness in my head and a modest relaxation of my body.

I frowned. On the other hand, maybe that was because of Max rather than the alcohol. I hadn't really had that much to drink.

There was a beat of silence before he replied, suddenly very serious, "I won't hurt you, Liz."

My mouth suddenly felt dry and I whispered self-consciously, "I know."

"You have the power to stop this at any time," he continued, his hold on my hand tightening.

I met his eyes straight on and was surprised by the touch of anger in my voice as I said, "I have no intention of stopping this."

Did he still assume that I didn't want this? That my body wasn't falling apart just from him holding my hand right then? That I wasn't even sure if I would still be able to walk once I got up from my seat? That I wasn't sweating for no particular reason and not having heart palpations even though my heart was medically sound?

"I want this," I added, tracing the dilation of his pupils. "I want _you_."

 _Like, right now._

He searched my face and opened his mouth to speak, when our bubble of privacy was interrupted by the sound of a car engine very close to the house.


	47. FORTY-SEVEN

_brokenbride - Am I getting predictable? ;-) You'll find out who is paying them a visit in this next chapter. Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 _loveisalifetimeproject - I'm very happy you found this story ;-) Thank you so much for leaving me some feedback!_

 **FORTY-SEVEN**

"Crap," Max breathed as he shot up from his seat so quickly that it wobbled on its legs and almost fell over. But neither of us noticed the subtle precarious fate of the chair as Max tugged on our still entwined hands and pulled me to my feet.

"Who is it?" I whispered, sudden deep fear twisting my insides.

"Doesn't matter. You need to hide," Max said tensely, his hand tight around my fingers, as he pulled me up the stairs.

I focused my eyes on my feet as his quick pace almost made me lose my footing. It felt like he was basically lifting me up the stairs, my feet barely touching the steps, and we reached the second floor in no time.

From downstairs, I heard the faint buzz of the car engine turning off and my breath froze on my dry tongue. I would have been paralyzed on the top landing of those stairs if Max hadn't been in charge of moving my body. My feet stumbled across black tiled flooring and I ungracefully bumped into Max as he abruptly stopped and pulled a door open.

Still holding onto my hand, he grabbed my free elbow with his other hand and essentially reversed my body into a small dark compartment. Thick fabrics brushed against my back and I realized that I was in some kind of walk-in closet. I made the mistake of looking up into Max's eyes and noticed the fear there, which instantly destroyed any small piece of calmness I might have had left.

A car door slammed shut outside the house. I was rooted to the floor, staring at Max. He hesitated, then leaned in and briefly brushed my cold forehead with his lips.

Pulling back, he whispered gently, "Don't be scared."

At a loss for words, I nodded.

He mustered up a small smile, but I could tell from the way it failed to reach the crinkles around his eyes that it was mostly put on for my benefit. "I'll be right back."

I nodded again as he stepped back, closed the door and cloaked me in darkness.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It was less claustrophobic to have your eyes closed, not having to see how small the space was or how the clothes around you were leaning towards you, soaking up your oxygen.

I heard Max rush down the stairs and clearly heard the sound of dishes being moved (he was removing traces of a second person being here), before the front door opened.

"Max?"

I clenched my fists and squeezed my eyes even tighter at the monotone voice of Max's father. I'm sure there was supposed to be surprise in Mr. Evans' voice, but maybe it took an extra effort for an alien to actually add emotions to his voice.

"Oh, hi," Max answered easily, the surprise very evident in _his voice_ however. "I thought I heard a car."

"What are you doing here? It's late."

There was a pause before Max answered calmly, "Not that late. I'm studying. I have this big test coming up and Isabel was bugging me."

"You didn't have to come all the way out here just to study," Mr. Evans said, his voice still plain and lacking inflections. It was impossible to read anything out of the sound of his voice. "You should have just told your mother or me that she was bothering you and we would have told her to leave you alone."

"I know," Max muttered. "I just… I lost it."

Mr. Evans sighed loudly. "You have to learn to control your temper, Max. It's getting you into a lot of trouble lately."

"Yeah," Max mumbled evasively and I wondered if his father was including me in his 'trouble' reference.

"And I'm not gonna tell you again; you should really let us know when you drive away like this. You'll make your mother worry."

"I know," Max agreed guiltily.

"Especially with what's been going on lately. You've broken our trust on more than one occasion."

"I'm sorry about that," Max said, his voice so soft, borderline submissive, that I had to strain to hear his answer.

"Have you been cooking?" his father asked, abruptly changing the topic and I heard the sound of dishes being moved around in a sink.

"Food for the brain," Max answered simply, his voice stronger again.

"I'm glad to see that you're focusing on school again. You need the grades for medical school."

"Right," Max said distractedly and cleared his throat. "So what are you doing here, Dad?"

"The community's having a meeting," Mr. Evans replied without pretense.

My heart dropped to my stomach. Max's reaction must have been similar because there was a longer pause than what was considered normal before he asked, "Tonight?"

"No," Mr. Evans replied breezily and the sound of steps increasing and decreasing around the main room downstairs told me that Mr. Evans was moving around a lot. "But I needed to check some things."

"You didn't tell me you were having a meeting," Max said, confused suspicion in his voice, insinuating that he was usually informed of these things and quite possibly was invited to all of their meetings.

"You're not invited," Mr. Evans said like he was informing Max that he needed to pick up some milk. Not the least acknowledging that his statement might hurt.

"Why not?" Max's voice was sharp and tense.

"Because the meeting is about you, son."

I sharply bit the inside of my cheek. _Oh no._

Even from my hideout upstairs I could hear the tremble in Max's voice as he repeated, "About me?"

"Don't act so surprised, Max," Mr. Evans said, the first audible emotion in his voice; amusement. "The community is perturbed by your recent acts of defiance. Even in the light of our most effective means of punishment, you keep on breaking the law."

"I-" Max started, but Mr. Evans voice was ice cold as he interrupted his son.

"You've disgraced our family, Maxwell. You continuously lie; to your parents, to your superiors. That stunt that you pulled with Sean at school-"

"Dad, I-" Max's voice was almost pleading in his attempt at interrupting, but Mr. Evans pressed on.

"Again with Elizabeth Parker. There are suspicions that you never erased her memories, like I asked you to. That you lied straight to my face about having erased them. If that is true, it's a very serious offense, Maxwell. Sean is under the impression that you have interfered with him bonding with Elizabeth-"

"She's not ready yet!" Max erupted and my breath trembled as Max forgot his cool. "You said so yourself! Sean has no right messing with her yet."

Mr. Evans' voice could freeze the hottest volcano. "And you have?"

"She was _hurt_! I needed to heal her." Max's voice was growing in intensity and I winced as I heard his heart through his anger. I was afraid that Mr. Evans could hear it too. "What good would she be to our community if I had let her die?"

"That's fine," Mr. Evans said. "But you shouldn't have bonded with-"

"Her injuries were too extensive for a superficial hea-"

"Don't interrupt me, son."

I took a step back into the hanging clothing. Letting the unfamiliar smells which had been incorporated into those fabrics envelop me as I tried to distance myself from the reality downstairs and also stop myself from running to Max's defense.

He had saved me. He had saved my life. And his father was mad at him because of it.

"I apologize, sir," Max mumbled, resistance at the implied submission clear in his voice.

Mr. Evans' voice was calm as he continued, "We've been over this. You should have healed what you could _superficially_ and then hand her over to us to complete the task. You are not yet fully trained to make deep healing without bonding."

There was a pause and I wondered if it was because Max was waiting to see if Mr. Evans was done talking and he was allowed to speak, or if it was because Max was unsure what to say.

"I thought it would be simpler if only I was involved. The post erasing process would be far less extensive."

"Yes," Mr. Evans said. "That's what I've been telling Sarge."

"Then what?" Max bit out and I knew that he was back on walking a thin line. One didn't speak to Mr. Evans like that. "What is this meeting about? I've left Liz Parker alone. I've served the punishment for accusing Sean of forcing himself on her, and I overheard Liz telling her friend just today that she was Sean's girlfriend."

"That's a positive development," Mr. Evans said slowly and I got the feeling that he hadn't been informed of that last piece of information prior to Max's declaration. "But the meeting is still on."

There was a loaded pause and I returned to my previous position, leaning up against the door and pressing my ear against the wooden surface, wondering if they had just lowered their voices.

Then Max spoke. "They don't trust me."

A shiver ran through me at the desolation and rejection in his voice. Even though Max seemed to very much dislike being an alien, he was still an integral part of a community. And like any other member of a group, he needed to feel included and accepted.

"You've given them plenty of reasons not to," Mr. Evans replied. "You've repeatedly jeopardized our control over our newest gaea, which is a serious offense."

"I know," Max mumbled.

"They want to discuss if you are to be re-educated."

I frowned. _Re-educated?_

As I considered what this could mean, I noticed that the house had grown quiet and my pulse tightened and increased in my ears the longer the silence stretched.

Then Max said, with such a deep sound of rejection that my body curled in on itself, "You're sending me away?"

"If they rule you to be out of control…" Mr. Evans said slowly and I thought I hinted warmth in his voice. Could he actually be concerned for his son? Would Mr. Evans be on his son's side and defend him in that meeting?

"Brainwashing," Max mumbled and goosebumps spread over my skin.

 _Brainwashing?_

"Don't be ridiculous," Mr. Evans said, his voice hard.

"Come on." Max was annoyed. "Let's not sugar-coat it. It's exactly what it is. I've been there before, remember?"

"It would do you good," Mr. Evans said, as if he was talking about taking vitamins, instead of going through a washing out process of the brain.

"If they force me…" Max's voice trailed off and I desperately wanted to see his face right then, to see what had stopped him.

Amusement had returned to Mr. Evans. "You'll do what? Run away?" He laughed shortly. "There's nothing out there for you on your own. Turn your back on the society and you'll be as good as dead. You'll be without protection, without cover, at risk of getting discovered for what you really are. And you won't only be hiding from humans, but also from us. Out there - without our consent - you're a liability. You know that. They can't risk you walking around and accidentally blow our cover."

Max sounded offended and rightfully so, I thought. His dad had basically just threatened his life. "You really think I would talk about us?"

"What if you were caught, son? Tortured for information? Would you keep quiet or break?"

"I wouldn't-"

Mr. Evans interrupted Max's objection, "My suggestion is that you don't run away." His voice softened as he said, "You're one of us. You're my son, Max. I care for you." He sighed. "This Parker girl has always got you twisted up in knots. You need to forget about her, I've told you over and over again. She's not yours. Find yourself some other girl. There are so many girls out there. After all, we need to carry the healing ability on."

I bit my lip against the tears threatening to develop. Mr. Evans wanted Max to create a family. With someone else. Someone who would be accepted by Max's family. By Max's community.

Someone that was not me.

No, _I_ needed to procreate with _Sean_. Or maybe procreation was never part of the plan. Maybe I was just supposed to be a childless sex slave.

"The meeting is tomorrow," Mr. Evans said in the absence of a reply from Max and I found myself once again wishing that I could see Max right then. Touch him. Comfort him. Because I knew, on some fundamental level, that this was breaking him apart.

"I don't want you anywhere near this house then. Not even for studying. You are not to tell them that you know of the existence of this meeting, understood?"

Max's voice was faint as he replied, "Yes," before distractedly adding, "Sir."

"That's my boy," Mr. Evans said, a happy tone to his voice which made anger flare hotly in the center of my chest.

He didn't even understand that he had hurt his son. That he had just turned his back on his own flesh and blood.

With a merry sigh, Mr. Evans added, "Now. Your mother will be wondering about my extended absence. I've been here too long. I need to find those protocols."

"Of course, Dad," Max said, a toneless dejection in his voice that scared me.

But it was quickly forgotten in light of hearing Mr. Evans' footsteps on the stairs. My heart rate quickly sped up, the sound of my blood roared in my ears as I took a step back into the clothing, trying to cloak myself inside the clothing if by chance Mr. Evans would sense me being there or something (you never knew with aliens, right?) and open the door.

I held my breath, my whole body tensing, as I heard his footsteps pass outside the door. I relaxed some when I heard them walk away, before my body repeated the same procedure as the footsteps returned a couple of minutes later.

But he had no interest in the small compartment, instead quickly descending the stairs.

"Call your mother, Max," Mr. Evans said. "She's expecting you for dinner."

"I already told Isabel to tell you-" Max started.

"No arguments," Mr. Evans cut off the conversation plainly and without any words of goodbye. I heard the front door open and slam shut. I listened to the silence draping itself over the house as a car door slammed shut outside of the house, followed by the revving of an engine and the subsequent sound of a car driving away until even the outdoors were quiet.


	48. FORTY-EIGHT

_brokenbride - I consider it a good thing that I still manage to keep you on your toes. And Philip Evans - don't be too quick to judge him. That's all I'm saying ;-) Thank you so much for your feedback!_

 _catherinescharacters - Oh, you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you so much for leaving feedback and letting me know that!_

* * *

 _A/N: This is the longest chapter I've ever written. Ever. My chapters regularly have an average of 6 pages. This one has 20. So my recommendation is to not start reading this if you're on your way to work and only have five minutes to spare, or if you're stressed and can't sit still._

 _Instead, find some quiet time, grab a piece of chocolate, make yourself a cup of tea or some coffee, and prepare yourself for the chapter I could not get myself to cut up into pieces._

 ** _This chapter contains adult themes._**

 **FORTY-EIGHT**

I didn't dare to move from my hiding spot, afraid that Mr. Evans would still be lurking around.

Instead I remained there until I heard footsteps on the stairs. The door was quietly pulled open.

His face was noticeably different from when he had left me earlier. It was like his life force had been drained out of him. His eyes flickered over my face, but he was avoiding meeting my eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

My heart ached and tears were threatening to fall at the cloud of rejection around him. Instead of answering, I left the hiding space within the hanging clothes, closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his rigid body, pressing my cheek against his chest.

"Are _you_ okay?" I countered and he didn't respond for the longest of moments. His arms hanged passively by his sides, his body remained unyielding and closed off as I tightened my embrace.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, completely devoid of emotion.

I took a shuddering breath, pulled back and looked up at him. Placing my hand against his cheek, I forced him to look at me, "Hey. It's me." There was a sparkle of something unreadable in his blank eyes. "You don't have to be brave around me."

I saw him swallow and felt a tremble run through him. Raising to the tip of my toes, I softly brushed my lips against his. I pulled back slightly to see that his eyes had drifted closed, a pained expression on his face.

My heart clenched painfully before I reached up again and fused our lips together in a firmer kiss, capturing the shudder that moved through him, before I put my arms around his neck, forcing him to bend slightly to accommodate our difference in height as I coaxed his mouth to open and deepened the kiss.

At the same moment as his arms (finally) moved to circle my waist, I felt the comfortable hum at the back of my mind and with every brush of my tongue against his, with every finger I pushed through his hair and every circle he was painting with his hands across my back, the hum grew stronger.

Until it cracked wide open.

His sharp inhalation hinted that he could suddenly feel me again; every single emotion. Tightening my hold on him, inching even closer as I pressed my body against his, I wanted it to be returned. I wanted him to take his walls down.

"Let me see you," I whispered against his lips.

His fingers curled into the back of my sweater as he whispered back, "No."

I might not be able to read his mind, and I could barely sense his feelings, but still his unspoken addition to that refusal whispered through the air.

 _Not right now._

"Don't hide from me. Please. I need to feel you."

He pulled back, emotion now clear and stormy in his eyes with the light from the hallway behind him highlighting the blush of desire on his cheeks.

"Please," I whispered again, sliding my hands down the front of his shirt. He captured them around the wrists when they reached the middle of his abdomen. His hold burned alluringly against my skin and he just held my wrists as he dropped his eyes.

I frowned, worried. Without his eyes, I had completely lost contact with the emotional play on his face. "Max?"

Then his eyes blinked up and his gaze sucked me into the inner workings of Max Evans. My next breath was deep while blind-sided as his thoughts rushed towards me.

 _He can't just send me away. I never want to go back to that place. He'll remove you. He'll remove you from my mind._

He trembled as he looked at me and I had no thoughts of my own, my mind occupied with listening to his.

This was not the same as when he had been speaking to me in an orderly fashion, controlling what sentences and thoughts I heard. This was even different from earlier today, after our 'interaction' in the Eraser Room, when Max had let his walls down. This was uninhibited, uncontrolled and unorganized. The inner jumbled ramblings of an alien-human-hybrid teenager.

 _I love you. I love you so much. I can't lose you. Please don't be afraid of me. If Sean lays one hand on- Who am I kidding? I've already exposed you to Sean. I put you in a lot of danger. What did he do to you?_

My reciprocating pictorial memories of Sean in the gym, pushing his cold hands up my abdomen, underneath my shirt, as his tongue forced itself into my mouth and he restrained me against a wall were unintentionally pulled to the surface where Max could easily view them.

All air seemed to leave him and his hands moved from my wrists to cover the backs of my hands, cradling them in his palms as he mumbled in anguish with his eyes drifting close, "Oh God…"

I blushed with mortification while simultaneously feeling the blood drain from my body. This was the reason alone why I had (accidentally) turned off (or paused) our bond the first time. So that he wouldn't see. Perhaps the universe was mocking me, because my humiliation produced the nauseating memory of Sean brushing his fingers over my breast, the sound of his insinuations of what he wanted to do to me whispering through my mind and into Max's.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking up at his closed eyes. "I didn't want you to see that."

He swallowed and shook his head slowly before opening pitch dark eyes, fueled with an anger that was barely being restrained judging from the trembles of his hands over mine. "No, don't apologize. I need to see this. I need to see what _I_ caused."

 _It was not your fault,_ my mind told him.

Even if we hadn't been connected right then, it would have been easy to see that he didn't believe me. He seemed to forget that my mind couldn't lie when open to him like this. I truly believed that it wasn't his fault.

" _Sean_ did that," I voiced, pulled at my hands so that Max's hands shook off mine and I could touch him again.

His guilt was deafening through the connection. And it quickly invoked other negative emotions and thoughts in him, like a snowball increasing in size and speed as it tumbled down a steep hill of anguish.

His chest rose and fell with aggravated harsh breaths as he pictured what he would do to Sean, in such a vicious dark way that I almost shied away from him. But I remained rooted in my spot, because the 'wishful thinking' about Sean's possible demise didn't harbor any malicious thoughts and Max wasn't _enjoying_ his own images of his hands around Sean's throat or watching him fall to the bottom of a cliff. His thoughts were not even necessarily vengeful, mostly protective. The thoughts were permeated with his love for me, with the need to eliminate anything that could cause me harm.

And naturally, as his mind killed Sean over and over again, in every way possible, thoughts of his father started creeping into his mind. And I started to understand the doubts he'd recently developed about his father. His mistrust about his father actually being one of the 'good guys', rocking a life-long foundation of belief.

A mistrust that had arisen as a result of his father's behavior towards me, in light of their most recent conversation downstairs.

 _He should be on my side. He's my father. He should accept how I feel about you and help me protect you. I shouldn't have to hide you from my own father._

His thoughts swirled as he pressed his forehead against mine, burying his hands in my hair and breathing in my air.

 _I don't want to force you. I never want to hurt you. Never. You're so beautiful. All the colors… I can't lose you. What if it doesn't work? What if it will all be for nothing? He'll win. They'll all win. And we'll lose._

"It won't be for nothing," I whispered, my cheeks wet from my tears. "We will have each other, at least for one night-"

 _Then they'll make us forget._

I shivered at the darkness of his thoughts. Of the insecurities and the self-doubt. This was not the strong and confident Max I knew. Granted, I hadn't had many opportunities to see inside his mind up until this point, but I realized that the conversation with his father really must have greatly rattled him in order to suck all the positivity out of him.

The mental version of his voice was dark and hopeless as his mind continued (too upset to take notice of my observation, apparently), _This is why I didn't want to show you. You don't need to know all of this._

And I felt him pull away, the telepathic connection fading.

"No," I said agitatedly, briskly moving my hands to his face and pulling his lips down to mine. "Don't shut me out." I tasted my tears on our unified lips as I felt him reciprocate my kiss.

He groaned against my lips, his thoughts mumbling, _I love how you taste. I love how you smell._

"I love _you_ ," I whispered, my voice trembling with a sob.

A large part of me was afraid I would be rejected again, his reaction to my confession in my bedroom of being in love with him still very clear in my head.

 _I'm an idiot. For reacting that way. I was trying to protect you. Trying to prevent you from getting too involved._

"I know," I whispered audibly, because I was still more comfortable with talking out loud than through thoughts (even though there was a big 'risk' that he had already heard my answer in my thoughts before I voiced it).

 _It hurt you,_ he observed.

 _Yes,_ my mind truthfully replied. There was nothing but truth in the world of telepathy. _You crushed me._

The feelings rushing over me at my confession almost crushed me again. His guilt for the pain he had caused me was so intense and overwhelming that my knees buckled.

His arm around my back prevented me from crumbling to the floor. Instead, he lifted me off my feet, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist, his hands burying into my hair as he pressed my lips against his in a demanding kiss while he backed out of the small closet space.

"Max," I whimpered, holding onto his shoulders to support my body against his, until he helped me out by moving his hands from my hair to brush along the curve of my behind, keeping my body in place with a firm grip at the back of my thighs.

I moaned, my whole body tingling as his thoughts started to blur just as much as mine as the sensations and our feelings took precedence over the situation. Our feelings flowed and blended across the connection, making it difficult to discern who was feeling what, rather making us feel everything in unison at once.

Well, I assumed he was feeling it too.

He captured my bottom lip between his teeth and answered my speculation with a hoarse, "I do."

His reply pulled another whimper out of me and my legs tightened around his waist. There were so many strong and unfamiliar feelings whipping through my body at that point that I wasn't even sure how to handle them. How to contain them - if that was even something I wanted to do.

I hadn't noticed Max moving us down the hallway - me being too occupied with the feel of his hands on the back of my thighs, the burning kisses devouring my lips and his tight abdominal muscles unyielding against the place where the tight embrace of my legs around his waist connected my lower body with his - until he brought us into a dark room, fumbling blindly for the light switch.

The change of scenery brought some active thoughts back into my blurred mind and as he flicked on a soft yellow floor lamp, bathing the room in a warm yellow hue, the face of Max's father - coupled with fear and a touch of paranoia - swam in front of my mental eye.

Max pulled his head back, separating our lips, connected large pupils with mine as he gently lowered me onto my back, onto a bed, thinking across the connection, _He's not coming back. We're alone._

"Are you sure?" I whispered, my breathing short and erratic. Looking up at him, all dark and magnificent above me, teased forward a natural shyness.

"He's not coming back," Max replied, slowly climbing on top of the bed, hovering above me, his knees on the outside of my hips as he kept a couple of inches of air between our bodies while resting his weight on his elbows.

His eyes were soft as he leaned down and placed a slow kiss on my tender lips, "You're okay. We're okay," making me suspect that he had noticed my sudden shyness.

Heat was throbbing through me, making me simultaneously antsy and uncomfortable. An unfamiliar restlessness made the blood roar in my ears, my pulse quicken and my heart beat full and strong.

His heart was beating just as hard, just as fast. I looked up into his eyes, which had taken on a warm hue of dark hazel, and concentrated on not letting all of my unfiltered thoughts reach him.

All my fantasies about him, about us, naked together.

I was unintentionally setting myself up to fail, because as soon as I concentrated on pushing my private musings through a mental strainer and just letting him see the most G-rated parts of my creative imagination, all of those forbidden images sped to the front of my mind and became plastered on the main screen for Max's viewing pleasure.

But instead of teasing me or even pulling away, his eyes widened with darkness in the fraction of a second before he attacked my lips with a groan. He devoured my gasps, deliciously bruising my lips, as I felt his lower body rest on mine.

By primal reflex, my body arched up against his, stroking the length of the front of my body with the length of his, and my body tightened in response to the hardness in more than one place of his body.

"Jesusfuckingchrist," Max fired off in a breathy mumble at the contact and, before my body had straightened out again, Max's lips started following the curve of my throat on my arched upper body, licking and nibbling his way down my feverish skin while his hands caressed down the sides of my ribcage, over my sweater, while my fantasies played out in high definition in our minds.

My embarrassment over what my mind was willingly sharing with Max quickly dissipated as his hands pushed underneath my sweater, bringing the material up my chest and - while briefly disconnecting his lips from my skin - pulled the sweater over my head.

I didn't see where it ended up after that. I was focusing 150% of my attention on the overwhelming sensation of Max's lips kissing a trail across my right collarbone in the direction of the indent between my clavicles, while his hands were everywhere.

"Oh God," I mumbled, as his fingers traced the ridges of my ribs and fluttered up the sensitive skin of the underside of my arms.

Was it possible to become warmer with less clothing on?

His intimate thoughts, sporadic amongst the erotic segments of my fantasies (which kept on changing according to the direction Max's touches was taking), were making my thighs clench and my hips move restlessly beneath his. His thoughts were a mixed commentary of soft compliments, adoration of my body, reflections over the softness of my skin and fascination over how he could make my body tremble and flush in response to his touch.

He brought my arms up over my head, tracing his fingers down across the softly flexed palms and, again, back down the underside of my arms as he kissed his way down my breastbone, pausing momentarily at the one-inch section where that lacy feminine bra crossed my sternum.

I felt his breath reverberate through my whole being in its staccato as his realization hit me. That he was on a bed, with me. Half-dressed me.

He stilled and looked up into my flushed face, astonished admiration in his eyes.

My face grew warmer, my body tighter with anticipation and the air around us crackled with energy as I sank into his thoughts of disbelief. Him never thinking that he would find himself in this situation. Never thinking that I would love him back and - even in the case that I did love him back - that he never would be allowed anywhere near me. Not like this. Never like this.

The inner workings of his mind were painting such a perfect, warm image of me that I found myself wondering who I really was. How could I look so different to him compared to how I had seen myself in the mirror just a couple of hours earlier?

Through his eyes, I was beautiful.

Through his eyes I was shimmering. It almost looked like I was surrounded by colors.

As I frowned, he mumbled, "You are. You've always been surrounded by colors."

Maybe it was that his declaration was almost poetic, or the fact that our merged love was smudging the lines which decided that I loved him and he loved me - instead making us love each other. Maybe it was the warm and dark nuances to his voice, or the burning remnant touch of his lips on my chest.

Or maybe I just simply couldn't wait any longer.

With a frustrated groan, I brought my arms down over his shoulders, impatiently stroking down the outsides of his toned back and sought out the hem of his shirt. As my short arms tried to reach down the length of his back, I inadvertently brushed his torso with mine. I inhaled deeply as he put his forehead against mine, and there was only determination in my action as I pulled on his shirt, staring into his changing eyes as I pulled it over the back of his head.

He lifted slightly, shrugging the shirt off him and captured my lips in a heated, hungry kiss.

His skin was so warm as it came into contact with my own semi-nudity. I was momentarily distracted by the sensation of his trimmed abdomen against my softer stomach and every small fine hair on my skin seemed to become enticed as they brushed against his skin with every harsh breath flowing out of my chest, his kisses catching my breaths.

By instinct, my hips arched up against his as I pulled away from his addictive mouth, to deeply inhale only to exhale in a loud short staggering breath, hooking my fingers through the loops at the top of his jeans, tempting his hips downwards, making our lower bodies deliciously collide.

His groan vibrated against my throat as he kissed down my jugular and I fluttered my short nails up along his back. In one swift movement, he removed his mouth from my skin, brushed his hands down the sides of my upper body (creating almost painful goosebumps in the sweep) while he came to sit up, suspending his body in the air above my thighs.

My chest was moving quickly up and down with every breath as I met his heated eyes while he stared down at me. I might have felt exposed with him looking at me like that, with such open hunger, but there was nothing in his mind that I should feel exposed about. I pressed my thighs together and an almost pitiful sigh rolled off my lips.

 _You're too far away._

My thought spurred him on and he quickly leaned forward, hooked his hands under my arms and pulled me into seated position. Not really sure how he had done it, I found myself sitting on his lap, my thighs vibrating with desire against the outsides of the jeans concealing his hips, his arms wrapped around my back.

There was no need to voice a consent or ask if I was okay; he could find all the information he needed in my head. And with my wanting mind (and body) guiding him, his adept fingers unhooked the clasp of my bra. His hands slowly caressed down the top of my shoulders, down my arms, as he brushed the bra straps away making the bra fall off my breasts.

The look on his face, the primitive darkening of his eyes and the erotic thoughts in his mind as he slightly separated our upper bodies and looked down at my exposed chest, were enough to tighten my insides. Something all-consuming was unfolding inside of me, my blood vessels pulsing with strong energy. I was dimly aware of the muscles of his arms flexing against the sides of my ribcage as my head fell backwards and my nails dug into his biceps.

A brief, confused thought raced through my head ( _What's happening?_ ), before tingles exploded throughout my body prior to an intense heat spreading through my sex, eliciting a hoarse cry from my mouth.

But Max seemed to possess the explanation to my confusion as he held my body in place, molding my sensitive breasts to his chest and brushing gentle lips against the side of my exposed throat.

"Let go," he mumbled and I did just that, letting a prickling sensation of cold and warmth spread up my back as my body first tightened in ecstasy before it eased out in satisfied tranquility.

When the overwhelming feelings calmed down around me, and I became lucent enough to register his thoughts (because my own mind was incredibly blank at the moment), I realized from the perfect wonderment coloring his mind that I had just had my first orgasm.

I pulled my head back up, staring at him with my mouth hanging open. _Was that even possible?_

There was a playful grin on his face which made my whole body flush even in the height of the glow from the orgasm.

"Maybe we shouldn't have joked about death by orgasm earlier," he mumbled and I felt the laughter move through me. I let myself relax in the satiety my body was enjoying.

Who could have known that Max Evans would bring me to orgasm just by removing my bra?

He moved his hands around to my front and up the ridges of my ribcage to cradle the weight of my breasts in his hands. I gasped, my body sensitive and ridiculously responsive in the aftermath of my climax.

"No one could have known that," he whispered against my hair as he loosened his fondle of my breasts and let the heels of his hands lightly brush my hard nipples as he moved his hands up over my collarbones and up my neck.

My body had been momentarily calmed by the release, but it was very quickly being teased back into desire as Max moved his hands down across my shoulder blades and urged my back to arch against the support provided by his hands while he placed a trail of open-mouthed slow kisses down the gentle swell of my right breast.

His tongue flickered over my nipple and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood to control the scream of pleasure, as my hips pressed up against his lower abdomen and my fingers tightened in his hair.

"Max," I mumbled while our minds panted with desire and boiled with longing.

Maybe it was no wonder that I had orgasmed before the main event when this whole time I wasn't only experiencing my own built up sexual frustration but also his. With his every stroke of my body, I didn't only feel the way the small nerve endings reacted in my skin to the pleasure, but also how it felt to touch my own skin - through Max. I had the almost surreal sensation of my own nails digging into my own back when they in reality were attacking Max's back.

I was only semi-aware of him lowering me down on my back as his mouth changed its attention from my right to my left breast. My body was a quivering mass underneath him and my uncomfortably wet panties were a testament that I was ready for him, in every way possible.

Following my train of thought, his hands - trapped between my back and the bed cover - moved downwards to the natural curve at the small of my back, his fingers dipping inside the edge of my jeans, running along the edge of my laced panties under my jeans.

I could feel how he struggled to hold himself back, how almost painful his desire for me was within the restraints of his jeans, and how he trembled with the fierce passion fondling my nipples with his lips had created in him.

There was an acute reluctancy in him as he pulled back from my breast, the odd feeling of the chilliness of the room caressing the wetness left on my breasts from his mouth making us moan in unison, before he returned his attention to my stomach, kissing down the midline to my navel. Moving slowly and taking his time to taste my skin. Simultaneously, he brushed his palms up my abdomen, up over my ribs and let them slide, with a delicious pressure, up and over my aroused breasts. His broad torso brushed slowly along the insides of my still clothed thighs as he gradually moved down my body, his hands caressing down the sides of my exposed chest.

His warm lips stopped on the border of my buttoned up jeans and he looked up at me.

Through his mind, I followed the trail his eyes traced up the flat expanse of my stomach, over the swell of my breasts, up my flushed neck (which was showing signs of his earlier nibbles) and landed on my brightly flushed cheeks, my clear and dark eyes.

I gasped at the vision before him - myself through his eyes - and at the emotions running through him as he just looked at me silently. Fierce protectiveness and primal possessiveness, all rolled up in one intense overpowering emotion.

Due to the bridge between our minds, there was no doubt in either of our heads that we both wanted this. So Max didn't need to audibly ask for my permission when he unbuttoned my jeans and slowly pulled the zipper down.

He kept his eyes on my face the whole time, watching and cataloguing my reactions. My desire wet the back of his knuckles as he brushed against my panties while pulling the zipper all the way down, and his body shifted uncomfortably when his own ache was making itself more and more known.

He dropped his head, pushed his hands inside my jeans and underwear, over my hips, and placed a lingering fleeting kiss on the top of my sex when it was revealed to him as he slowly pushed the remainder of my clothing down my legs.

The sight of the top of his dark head between my legs coupled with his kiss and the feel of his hands brushing along the outside of my legs as he pulled my jeans off, was almost enough to send me into the second orgasm of my existence.

He moaned, still in tune with my thoughts (it was impossible not to be), and freed the pants from my feet, pulling off my socks at the end.

The coldness of the room - witnessing of it being unused for long periods of time - brushed over my now completely naked body. But I wasn't cold. I couldn't be. Not when Max was kissing along the curve of my foot, working his way up the inside of my calf, while his hands fleeted along the outsides of my legs.

I pulled my legs together, partly to hide me, but also to decrease the ache.

He looked up at me, giving me a half-smile that made my toes curl and my fists tighten around handfuls of bed sheets, and brushed his hands across the top of my thighs to the sensitive surface of the inner thighs, gently pushing my legs apart again.

"No, you don't," he mumbled.

I whimpered, my hips lifting as I fought against his gentle pressure at keeping my legs separated. "Please…"

He lightly graced my inner thigh with his teeth, the sensation bordering on painful which sent a paralyzing heat straight to my wet center and my back arched off the bed.

"Please," I moaned. I wasn't sure how much more I could take. The pleasure was almost painful.

Then his lips moved to the curve of my groin and I stilled. I was acutely aware of his breaths fanning over the skin at the junction and my body had stopped functioning in anticipation of what he would do.

Our connection didn't work very well at keeping secrets, however, so I had a fairly good (very vivid and detailed, actually) idea of what Max was planning to do.

But that knowledge didn't subtract from the explosion vibrating through me as he placed an open-mouthed kiss over the top of the concentrated bundle of nerves at my center.

He didn't wait out my orgasm this time, as it trembled through me even more powerful than the first one, instead stroke his tongue through my folds. Experimenting, nibbling, tasting, moaning. He followed my every thought, my every mental and vocally unspoken 'Oh, that feels good' and 'No, further down' and 'Right there. Yes!', to build my pleasure up. Adding fingers to tease and please, to prolong and provide. He used the heel of his hand to add pressure, his other hand to skim around my hips, up my abdomen and occasionally firmly grab my hips to keep my squirming body still under his ministrations.

I lost track of how many time he brought me to the peak. How many times I floated above my body and how many times I begged him to stop because I wasn't sure I could take any more pleasure. He seemed obsessed with my body, with my reactions, and the feelings that floated even through him every time I reached culmination.

But his own need for release was becoming increasingly apparent in our minds and I was amazed by his self-control, him not having lost it already. My own orgasms seemed to never reach full completion as his unfulfilled ache drummed in the background.

So after the umpteenth orgasm, I managed to bring weak and tired arms down to grab a hold of his ears, pressing my palms against the well-defined angles of his jaw, and coax his attention to my face. There were no words needed as I interrupted his gentle kissing across my sweat dampened abdomen and instead moved up my body.

I cried out in a combination of pleasure and pain as the rough denim material of his jeans brushed against my highly sensitized inner thighs and clit as he moved between my thighs. He collapsed his forehead against mine in a mutual feeling of painful pleasure, as he shared my experience, and mumbled breathlessly, "Sorry."

I looked up into his eyes, sweat droplets sprinkling my forehead and the top of my cheeks, and leaned up to kiss him. There was a taste on his lips that I didn't recognize and my body tightened with (seemingly) unsatisfied lust as I realized that I was tasting myself on his mouth.

"Better than pancakes," he mumbled, and my laugh was slightly winded as I shook my head.

"Not better than _your_ pancakes."

He looked deeply into my eyes and I was acutely aware of our short breaths making our upper bodies brush against each other in an erratic pattern.

I brought my hands up to gently brush my fingers through his damp hair and his eyes drifted close at the caress.

"I really love you," I whispered, surprised by the strong emotion shooting through me, making my voice break.

His eyes opened and he looked at me silently for a long time, making sure that I could see his response clearly in his eyes, before he gently pulled my bottom lip between his, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

I could feel the sobs lurking at the back of my throat and my voice was wobbly as I whispered, desperately, "Don't ever leave me."

He swallowed, his eyes a bottomless sea of sadness. "'Til death do us part," he promised solemnly. A tear escaped my eye and slowly rolled down my cheek. His thumb brushed it away as it slowly stroke across my cheek.

I nodded haltingly, his chosen phrase having even more meaning in our situation, and tightened my hands against the nape of his hair to hold my tears back, even if I knew that he could already feel my tears - so there was no need in not letting them loose.

But instead of commenting on it, he placed a slow kiss on my cheek in the memory of my tear, before placing another kiss at the corner of my mouth. Slowly, he moved over my face, adorning my eyelids, my eyebrows, my temples, my forehead, my chin, the line of my jaw, with his tender lips.

With every kiss the fire gradually burned brighter inside of me and the responding effect in him made us tumble quicker towards the barely restrained need for each other.

And spurred on by the liberties he had taken with my body, the view he had of me in his mind, I became brave and bold, halting his renewed ministrations of my body by raising up on my elbows, causing him to look down at my naked chest as my breast dipped in another type of fullness at the change in position.

I smiled as I almost felt the heat of his gaze burning through my chest and gentle pushed at his upper body. He looked up, frowned, and searched my mind. His eyes widened as he reached my intention and he sat back on his heels as I came up on my knees and put my hands on his thighs.

We swallowed in unison as I found my balance on my knees in the soft mattress and moved my hands to his upper body. I glanced up at him, absorbed the dark lust in his eyes, before I diverted my eyes back to the perfection that was Max Evans' torso. My bottom lip naturally folded between my teeth as I traced my fingers slowly down the planes and ridges of his front, watching the goosebumps spread, saw his chest rise in strained breathing and felt the impossible further hardening of his erection through the bond.

Unable to stop myself, I leaned forward and kissed him, just above his navel. He inhaled sharply and I let the sound sink into me and fuel my desire to explore every inch of the man in front of me. The only man I had ever touched in this way. I let the tips of my fingers flutter along the sides of his body (because I had already learnt that he liked that) as I slowly kissed his exposed abdomen. I felt the muscles ripple under my sore lips and felt his hands fists in my hair as I dipped my tongue into his belly button.

I loved that I could elicit such reactions in him. I loved that I could give him this kind of pleasure.

"So do I," he mumbled and I laughed softly against his skin, making him moan in response at the vibrations it created.

I pulled back, and fascinated, traced my index finger along the line of hair running from the bottom of his navel only to disappear into his jeans.

My eyes dropped lower, to the unmistakable bulge at the top of his jeans, and I swallowed again.

"You can touch," Max whispered gently as my nervousness floated between us.

My eyes flickered up to his and as our eyes connected, he took my hand and brought it on top of his erection.

My eyes widened. Rock hard. I winced. That must hurt.

He laughed quietly. "I'm sure you can do something about that."

"So much faith," I mumbled and shook my head at the monumental task, which had him move my hand to the button of his jeans instead, the invitation clear.

My hands were shaking as he let go off me to let me work on his jeans. The button was no problem. The zipper on the other hand…

I licked my lips, before I gently pushed my hand inside his pants, folding my palm around his full length. His sharp inhale at the intimate touch was all the encouragement I needed. Letting my hand protect him, I pulled the zipper down against the back of my hand before letting my hands slide around his backside, feeling the firm muscles in his ass which made my heart jump erratically.

I shifted restlessly, letting my center rest against the heel of my foot to try and alleviate the building ache, as I started pushing down his jeans. He pushed up on his knees, forcing me to move with him, and I felt his eyes on me the entire time I was moving his pants down his legs.

His legs were hairy and I found the feeling of his hair under my palms as I brushed them down his firm thighs highly erotic. He was so different from me. Where he was hard, I was soft. Where he was large, I was small.

He put a finger under my chin, angled my head upwards and brushed a kiss against my lips, before he climbed off the bed and removed the jeans completely. My eyes were fixed on the lower parts of his body as he also removed his black boxers.

I swallowed deeply as he came into view. Max Evans in all naked glory.

And it was glorious.

My breath hitched and tumbled in my chest, my body had forgotten how to breathe, and I caught the amused smirk on his face before he climbed back on the bed, leaned over me and forced me down on my back using only the proximity of his body.

"Breathe, Liz," he whispered against my lips and my lungs did the opposite as he slowly stretched out on top of me, flushing our naked bodies together. "Breathe."

"How?" I practically squeaked as I felt the hairs on his legs brush intimately against my inner thighs as he settled between my legs. His erection pressed into my soft abdomen as he rested on his elbows over me.

He brushed some errant hair away from my forehead and mumbled, "Just sink into the feeling."

I slowly let out a breath and a short laugh to ease the sexual tension, "That's kinda the problem here, Max."

 _We fit perfectly together,_ he whispered intimately in my mind and slowly moved against my body.

"Oh god," I whispered.

 _Death by Orgasm. Death by Orgasm._

He laughed softly into the curve of my neck at my thoughts, but I saw through the connection that he was just as affected as I was. That he was biting the skin at the top of my shoulder right now because he was trying to restrain himself, when all he wanted to do was move inside of me.

I moaned at his thoughts. " _Not_ helping."

"I need you," he mumbled.

I replied by pushing at him lightly, and there was only a second of hesitation before he followed, letting me flip our positions so that I was on top of him. We froze in that position for a moment, allowing the sensations to float through us. Of me looking down at him and his muscular upper body, of him looking up at me and my breasts covered in marks of love which were slowly turning darker. Of my wet center pressed against his happy trail, with no barriers, and his strong hands pressed possessively into the softness of my thighs.

"Liz…" he said slowly, with a hint of warning, as he read my mind.

But I just smiled at him, feeling curious and adventurous, as I lifted off him, put my ass in the air and bent over to brush my lips against his chest. His hands moved to my waist, tight in their hold, and I traced the developing goosebumps with my tongue as I moved further south.

His body tightened under my ministrations and just before I met my goal, I looked up at him, at his tight facial features, at the frown of concentration on his forehead and said quietly, with a hint of teasing, "Breathe, Max."

He groaned and pried one eye open to look at me. Something he probably shouldn't have done, judging from his intense reaction through the connection. His hips trembled under me and I felt his hands in my hair as he rose to his elbows, whispering, "You know this is going to be over very quickly if you do that."

"Do what?" I asked innocently, as I looked in fascination at the part that set the male body apart from the female. "This?" I ran a light finger up the entire length of him, marveling at the velvet texture over the hard member.

" _Fuck!_ " he groaned and fell back on the bed.

I watched it twitch and tremble as I folded my hands around it, and I was highly aware of how it felt as Max's unfiltered thoughts exploded through the bond. He was very large in my hand, an observation that briefly rocked my confidence.

How would this work? How would he fit? _I will disappoint him. I won't be enough. I will be-_

And then his hands were cradling my face, his lips hot and urgent against my mouth. A shudder of deep desire jolted me as he spoke straight into my mind; _Stop that. We will fit. We were made to fit together._

I was trembling as he pulled back, feeling slightly ridiculous as I caught the concerned look in his eyes. Of course he would fit. Women gave birth to giant human heads all the time, didn't they?

A smile played at the corner of his mouth and he nodded. "Yeah, I can't compete with that."

"Thank Goodness," I mumbled, soaking up his smile and my hand accidentally flexed around his member.

His eyes snapped to my hand with a sharp inhale and my eyes followed his gaze.

Right. Where was I?

He looked back up at me, barely hiding his smirk at my boldness, but apparently enjoying it. Leaning back on his elbows, he invited me to continue. And I did.

Guided by the curiosity in me; the fascination with a piece of anatomy that was completely foreign to me (and seemed to have a life of its own), and the constant feed of Max's thoughts and emotions, I moved my hands up, down and around his length.

A new type of fire was building in me at Max's reactions, as his pleasure became mine and my sole goal became to please him as much as possible. It didn't take long until his control broke and the most beautiful sense of completion diffused around us.

My hands trembled from the indirect orgasm, but I couldn't help but wanting to taste him, wanting to touch my lips to the now much softer member. He barely had a chance to come down from the high before I ran my tongue up his length, making his hips shoot off the bed in surprise.

"Jesus," he mumbled. "Liz…"

I smiled as I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. That look alone made him start to swell in front of my eyes and I watched entranced, for a second, before I brought my lips down around him.

But he didn't let me go on for long, my cheating through the connection about what he liked, making him ready far too quickly.

I yelped as he quickly pushed himself up into a seated position, grabbed me by my upper arms and basically threw me down next to him. I laughed breathlessly before I grew still in anticipation, resting on my back. I was completely at his mercy.

He was through taking his time. His movements were restless and heated, his fingers leaving scorch marks over my skin as he kissed and suckled my skin. He barely came up for air before capturing my mouth with his, tangling our tongues together, doing to my mouth what he wanted to do to my body.

I curled my fingers into the sides of his waist, flushing his body with mine, and he brought a finger down to run through my soaking folds.

I moaned as he groaned, "God, you're so ready."

Yes, 'ready' was one word for it. It felt like I had been waiting forever.

Gently kissing the tip of my nose, he surprised me by pulling away, allowing the slight chilliness of the room flow over my exposed body. I had time to frown in confused insecurity at him, before he reached down towards the floor and I saw, in his mind, what he was looking for.

I let out a relieved breath and let myself sink back into the bed. While he retrieved the foil packet from the back pocket of his jeans, I had a moment to breathe and let the happiness I was feeling right then move warmly through my body.

I swallowed as I glanced at him, saw him putting the condom on, and had a beat of that - by now - well-known nervousness.

His amazing eyes looked over at me and he narrowed them in mock admonishment. "Don't be nervous, beautiful."

A smile trembled on my lips and I shook my head in denial. I don't know why I even tried to convince him of otherwise, but I naturally fell back on the very female need to cover every bad feeling up with a, "I'm fine."

He looked at me with thoughtful suspicion, making my toes curl, and I rubbed my thighs restlessly together. His husky voice stilled my loud beating heart as he said, "Yes," and added in a deep groan as he crawled up the length of my body, "Yes, you are."

I felt like his deliberate misunderstanding of my statement called for an eye-roll, but instead my back arched off the bed as he draped his body over mine and captured my lips with his. His kisses were hot and passionate, making every cell in my body want him. Creating a drive inside of me that was almost painful. A drive to join our bodies.

He felt it too, because his breathing changed - becoming heavier and almost strained. He continued kissing me and I my mouth was right there with him, meeting every turn, every stroke, every caress.

Slowly, he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine with our breaths harsh and loud around us. Lifting his head he caught my eyes and I felt like kissing him again at the complete devotion and love I found in there.

I needed him so much.

Even without a thread of fabric between us and our bodies so intimately flushed that we could have been mistaken for one body, I needed more.

He searched my eyes for another second, before lifting off my body slightly and reaching down to guide himself towards my entrance.

There was a silent question in his eyes as he looked back at me, and I nodded in response, and felt him push against me. My back bent and a breath escaped me as he slowly entered me. I met his intense eyes as he gauged my every reaction, and concentrated on accommodating him. I was waiting for the pain, expecting it even. But except for the fact that the feeling was completely foreign, making me feel a slight discomfort, there was no pain.

"You okay?" he asked in a trembling breath, his eyes tracing the faint frown on my forehead and his mind - probably unconsciously - searching my body for pain.

There were small shudders moving through him at the exertion it took to move slow, to give me time to adjust to the feel and fullness of him.

I nodded and commanded softly, "Kiss me."

I didn't have to ask him twice. He captured my lips while he moved the whole way in. My gasp drowned in his mouth and he released my tender lips, dropping his forehead against mine as he focused on staying as still as possible.

My breathing was heavy and slow as I let everything wash over me. Not just the physical sensation of being as close to him as I could possibly get, but also the emotions humming around me, sharpening my sense and heightening my awareness. I was blending into him, falling into the warmth that was his essence. And when I looked up at him I saw the colors around him too. The colors he could see surround me.

I gasped, marveling at the beauty.

Slowly I moved my hands up the sides of his back, over his shoulders and stopping at the top of his trembling biceps. His forehead lifted from mine and our eyes locked the second I urged his body down on mine by the persuasion of my hands.

The act had him move inside of me and my teeth graced his shoulder as I got lost in the comforting and safe feeling of his weight on top of mine.

Testing the ground, I slowly pulled my knees up closer to my waist, letting my heels slide along the backside of his muscular thighs, simply indicating that he should start moving. Even if he didn't understand that sign, he would understand the desire building in my body.

Keeping his body on top of mine, without a breath of air between us, he started moving. The close contact of our bodies created a slow friction everywhere our skin met and the feeling that had first been foreign and a bit uncomfortable, was quickly becoming natural as we moved together.

We were both so worked up, so inflamed with need and pent up sexual frustration, that it didn't take long before we reached the edge. I knew from the fleeting algebra equations that Max was solving in his head close to culmination that he was pacing himself and waiting me out before letting himself go.

So when the bottom gave out and the world disappeared around me in a cry of pleasure, Max found my hands and tightened his fingers around mine above my head as he muffled a cry of sweet ecstasy against my neck.

Before his tight hold on my hands even had a chance to loosen, we were brought into the flash.

" _Leave her alone. She's just a child."_

 _I looked at the unfamiliar grown-ups around me as an odd feeling moved through me, making me shake. I wanted us to leave. Why couldn't we just leave?_

 _"Mommy, let's go," I whispered and my mom's larger hand tightened around mine. I looked up at her in the search of a comforting look, for reassurance. But she was still looking at the men._

 _I had never seen her like that before. She was scaring me nearly as much as the strangers._

 _"Then you shouldn't have brought her here, Nancy," a tall, blond man growled from the corner and I found myself shrinking into my mother's side, hiding behind her leg._

 _"You didn't really give me much choice, did you?" mom snapped and I let go of her hand to instead wrap my arms around her thigh. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and buried my face in the familiar smell of my mother's clothes. "She's too young to remember. I'll explain it to her."_

 _I heard someone laugh softly. But it was not a happy laugh; it made my hold tighten on the only person I knew in that room._

 _"You talk like you have a say in this. When did you_ ever _have a say in this?"_

 _I jumped as my mother raised her voice. She rarely ever did that. "I have a say in what happens to my daughter!"_

 _My body was so taut from the threatening atmosphere that I flinched as my mother brushed her hand across the top of my head._

 _"You're only postponing the inevitable," a voice said. I was having difficulties putting faces to the voices. They all sounded the same. Like the evil men in the cartoons on TV._

 _My eyes flew open in fear as I felt my mom move in my petrified hold, but I relaxed some as I watched her lean down towards me, her eyes large and wet._

 _"Why are you crying, Mommy?" I whispered, because I hated to see her cry. Mommy wasn't scared of anything. Not even the evil blue monsters under my bed. The ones with claws._

 _"Baby," she said quietly. So softly that I had to concentrate to hear her. "Do you remember where the front door is?"_

 _I nodded, biting my lip, as I kept my eyes fixed on her face._

 _"When I squeeze your hand, I need you to run towards that door, open it and run outside. Don't look behind you and don't stop. Run just as fast as you did at Maria's yesterday, remember?"_

 _"When I was a hero," I whispered, clearly remembering how I had dressed up in red tights and tied a scarf around my neck as a cape, ready to save Maria from the evil man, portrayed by Maria's English bulldog._

 _I had run fast then._

 _My mother smiled faintly. "That's right, honey. Find a good hiding spot and wait for me, okay?"_

 _I shook my head in confusion. She wasn't coming with me? "But…"_

 _"I'll be right behind you," mom interrupted and pressed a kiss to my forehead._

 _"How nice," one of the men said, startling me. "It's just a wipe, Nance. No need to make such a big deal out of it."_

 _My mom straightened, loosely took my hand, and as I looked up at her, she was staring at the men again._

 _When I squeeze your hand_

 _I concentrated on her hand around mine, afraid that I might miss her squeeze._

 _"Do you even know what those things do to a developing child's brain?" mom asked. She sounded stern. Really stern._

 _Then she squeezed my hand. Tightly._

 _Even though I had waited for it, it still surprised me, leading to that she had to squeeze again, even harder, before I got my legs working, released her hand and ran._

 _"Really?" I heard one of the men say when I escaped. He sounded bored._

 _My eyes were focused on the doorway, which I remembered would lead to a hallway, where the front door was. My heart was hammering in my chest and the room seemed bigger than before, because my legs weren't fast enough._

 _I stumbled on the edge of a carpet and probably would have fallen if a boy hadn't appeared in front of me, stopping my fall, almost making us fall over together._

 _"Max, get out of there," one of the men said, annoyed, as I searched the boy's face. He was a child, just like me. My eyes met his large dark ones and I made a snap decision to trust him. I moved around the new addition to the group and tried to hide behind him. He was a bit taller than me and I desperately tried to hide behind his shape._

 _"Who are you?" the boy asked, looking over his shoulder at me._

 _"I need to go outside," I whispered breathlessly. "Can you help me?"_

 _"Maxwell, bring her over here," the dark-haired man said with a sigh and I glanced over at my mother's fearful face before looking behind me and seeing a woman coming out in the hallway - blocking my way to the front door._

 _It was weird that the men didn't just walk over and grab me. That's what my parents did when I had done something wrong. But my parents were never scary. They always tried to explain what I had done wrong and afterwards they always hugged me. These men wouldn't hug me. I didn't want them to hug me. And I was very relieved that they seemed too bored to even go after me._

 _I scrunched up the back of the boy's sweater in my hands and tried to hold back my tears._

 _"Why?" the boy called Max questioned._

 _There was a moment of silence, which I used to tug on his shirt, making him take a step backwards with me - crossing the threshold into the hallway._

 _"You are to do what you are told, Maxwell."_

 _"You were hurting her mommy," the boy said, confused. "Why?"_

 _The grown-up that had scolded the boy just now sighed, "Damn it," and started to cross the floor towards us._

 _Fear exploded in my chest._

 _"Help," I whispered and searched out the boy's hand. He made me feel safe. Even though the evil men seemed to know him, he didn't seem to be like them._

 _When our hands touched, something sharp tickled up my arm along with an almost painful heat, and my legs buckled._

 _"What the-?"_

 _I was faintly aware of the boy named Max falling to the floor along with me as angry and confused voices filled the room, before someone roughly grabbed me and pulled me away from the boy._

 _As our hands separated, everything went dark._

I gasped, my gaze focusing on him. He was still weighing my body down with his, still clasping my hands, still buried inside of me. The sweat had yet not dried on our still heated bodies and our breaths were still shallow and quick in our chests.

"Did you see?" I breathed, a very anxious sensation fluttering in my chest.

"It was one of your memories," he whispered, confirming that he had indeed shared the flash with me. "But I was in it."

"We were kids," I said, perplexed.

He filled in my confusion, "But we didn't know each other that young."

"You didn't even move here until…after you were six, right?"

But I saw the answer to his question in his mind even before he tried to think up an answer. Another detail about Max's life that had been fed to public image of the Evans family.

Apparently, Max and Isabel were born in Roswell and lived here until they were five. But then something had happened and they had been-

I frowned, looking through his memories on the matter. "'Transferred'?"

I found the term odd for a small child, but it was the one I had caught in his mind.

"Something happened," Max said quietly. "Something that warranted erasing my mind and 'reprogramming' me."

"Re-education," I said slowly, thinking back to the conversation between his father and him earlier.

"Maybe that was it," Max voiced equally slowly. "The flash. Maybe that was what happened. Something happened between us just before you…you…"

"Passed out?" I guessed. I was confused. Confused about how to react to this. In a way it kinda made sense that Max and I had met before. But… "Did you connect with me?"

He frowned at my query, searching his mind for the possibility. I watched him go through the flash, searching out the details and turning them back and forth. It was fascinating; watching how his mind worked. My thighs tightened around his hips, my insides clenching around him, and his eyes flickered to mine in surprise.

Confusion gave away to a smile as he read my body and mind. "Is this turning you on?"

I blushed. Even in the position we were just in and all the things we had just done to each other, I managed to blush as he called me out on my need for him.

"I just love the way you think," I admitted with a self-conscious smile that made him chuckle softly.

It was a relaxed sound, a happy sound. I let my thighs fall out to the sides as he shifted against me and I couldn't help but moan as he slowly pulled out of me.

He sat up next to me and coldness washed over me at the loss of his body. My body instantly acutely missed him, even though he was only a couple of inches away. I watched him dispose of the condom, but both of our minds were occupied with going through the memory our climax had just showed us.

He laid down and stretched out next to me, placing his arm across the lower part of my abdomen and resting his cheek against the top of my left breast.

"You look abused," he said quietly, curious amusement dominating his voice.

I buried my hand in his hair and angled my gaze down the length of my naked body, looking for what he was referring to.

I scoffed in mirth as I agreed with his statement. My whole body seemed to be covered in hickeys, some darker and more prominent than others. "Good thing I'm in bed with a healer then."

"I don't know," he pronounced slowly, languidly tracing the kiss-induced bruises over my hip, doing funny things to my breathing. "I kinda like the idea of you being marked by me."

I giggled. "How archaic of you." But to be honest, I loved that he had marked me. That he had claimed me in the most primordial way.

He lifted his head slightly to place a soft kiss just above my nipple. "I'll take the healing under consideration."

My breath fluttered in my chest at the intimacy of his gesture, and I smiled, my hand threading back and forth in his thick hair. "You do that. I don't think my dad will appreciate this checkerboard fashion."

"He usually sees you without clothes?" Max questioned, making me blush with mortification. Again.

"I'm just assuming that my neck looks about the same," I retaliated. _I remember you spending quite a lot of time there._ "And he can certainly see my neck."

He lifted his head off my chest and looked up at me, his eyes darkening with deep possession, that he was trying unsuccessfully to hide, as he noted his love bites coloring my throat. He glanced up at me with the most innocent boyish expression. "Maybe I'll just remove those ones."

I melted at his compromise, at the love coursing through me. He kept his eyes on me for a long second before he shifted and pushed himself up towards my face. I shivered with delight as he semi-draped his body over mine, covering my left leg with his right thigh, and looked down at me seriously.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sober sincerity permeating every syllable.

I tried to come up with the correct phrase, with the best description for the magic we had just been through. I settled for, "Reborn."

He nodded slowly, taking this in along with everything I couldn't put into words which was flowing through my mind. "And…alien-wise. Anything different?"

An odd sense of loss brushed me, which I quickly tried to stow away. But the disappointment in my voice betrayed me, "No."

 _Nothing odd except for the memory flash._

"You?"

He shook his head, his concerned thoughts matching mine. "No."

I felt my heart slowly drop. So this was it. It really had just been one night. One magical night that were never to be repeated, because nothing special had happened to our bond. Nothing seemed to have been doubled in strength and nothing seemed to have been added.

"Let's not think about that now," Max interrupted my gloomy thoughts. " _If_ this is our only night together, let's make it count."

I sadly fluttered a finger down the side of his face. "You've already made it count."

But as soon as his lips had gently brushed mine and he had settled back against my chest, my mind was back to considering escape routes. Trying to come up with the best place to go underground with Max.

And even though we never voiced it out loud or acknowledged the similar pathways our minds were taking, we were both thinking of secret identities and being together forever while on the run as Max pulled a blanket over a chilled bodies and we drifted off to sleep.


	49. FORTY-NINE

_brokenbride - Thank you :D Happy to hear that you were not too intimidated by the length of the previous chapter._

* * *

 _This chapter contains adult themes._

 **FORTY-NINE**

Anxiety woke me up with a start and it took me a couple of seconds before I could get my head around where I was. And why I was sleeping naked.

Something I never did.

But the memories of before quickly came to me, indirectly heating my body up, and with a soft groan I reached out behind me, expecting to find Max there. But my hand only met the still warm surface of the bed sheet.

In that same second I heard his hushed voice from the hallway, stating, "She's awake."

I looked to the dim light shining in through the bedroom door left ajar as I slowly sat up, pulling on the blanket to protect my nudity against the chilly air.

"No," Max's hushed voice continued and I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand while yawning.

The anguish was still throbbing through me, almost inseparable from the feeling of fear, as I tried to get my confused and tired mind to operate.

"We'll talk about this later," Max said. "I need to go back to her."

My eyelids were heavy as I just sat there, trying to familiarize myself with my body. I felt different; relaxed and loose. Like someone had massaged every tired muscle and stretched out every joint, making me boneless. And I felt sore. Exquisitely so.

I blinked against the light as he pushed the door open and slowly walked into the room. My eyes traced down his magnificent shape, noting that he was wearing his boxers, but nothing else. I unconsciously licked my lips.

As his eyes connected with mine, I realized where the mix of anxiety and fear was coming from.

Him.

I swallowed, feeling my cozy and comfortable half-slumber mood evaporating. He stopped next to the bed, resting the weight of his upper body on his hands as he leaned forward over the bed, bringing his face close to mine.

He offered me a soft smile and gently brushed my lips. "Hey."

"Hey," I returned, itching to put my hands on his bare arms, but feeling shy all of the sudden.

There was warm concern in his eyes as he mumbled, "Did I wake you?"

"Your feelings did," I confirmed, my concern matching his and I brought my hand up to his cheek. But my fingers curled hesitantly against his skin, while I searched the connection, quickly realizing that he was partly blocking me. I couldn't read his thoughts, eavesdrop on what was making him uncomfortable.

After everything that we had shared. After everything that had been said, thought and felt between us, I respected that there must be a very good reason why he would be hiding something from me right now. So I was going to trust him and let it go. For now.

He was most likely listening to my reasoning, since _my_ mind was still open to his. Which was confirmed by the flash of relief and gratitude in his eyes which I smoothed over by asking, "What time is it?"

He covered my hand against his cheek with his and squeezed gently. "A little after midnight."

Not later?

"Who were you talking to?" I asked, briefly wondering if I was unintentionally breaching what he didn't want to talk about.

But his tone was light as he answered, "My sister."

I squeezed my lips together in sudden self-awareness and dropped my eyes. Max reached out and tugged the blanket I was covering myself with out of my hands, softly challenging my insecurities, "You haven't forgotten that Isabel was the instigator of all of this, have you? She knows very well what we've been up to."

I flushed, the heat only accentuated by the fact that Max had let the blanket fall from my chest into a soft pile on my lap, leaving my upper body very exposed.

I looked up at his dark eyes through my eyelashes and whispered, a touch of torture in my voice, "And she called for a status report?"

I wasn't accusing him of anything. I wasn't mad or annoyed. And I was definitely not feeling resentment towards Isabel - she had made this night happen. I was, in general, just mortified that someone else knew about us having sex, like it was a task that had to be completed. Something that, in a way, detracted from what should be an extremely private moment.

I frowned. Actually, that made me a bit annoyed.

I could see how he silently followed my train of thought as his eyes grew darker in the dimness of the room and, upon my realized irritation, he moved forward on his hands, crawling up on top of the bed, his body moving over mine which forced me to lay back to accommodate his advance.

My body's response to his was instantaneous. My breathing picked up, my cheeks flushed, my insides heated, goosebumps raced across my exposed skin and my nipples hardened.

His eyes were pitch black and his gaze was making me shiver with desire as he hovered above me. I clenched my thighs together. Letting his elbows and underarms sink into the mattress outside of my shoulders, he lowered himself on top of me, our chests flushed together.

My body sighed in barely restrained delight. Something flashed in his eyes the second before he swept down and captured my lips. Our lips parted in unison and our tongues touched.

We knew this dance by now. We were intimate experts on what the other one liked, the alien bond between us speeding up our learning. There was no need to actively tell the other what one liked. There was no need for hesitation or to be nervous if one should be honest or not. Honesty came naturally with the open flow through the connection.

"What did I tell you about calling anything concerning us 'a task'?" he groaned darkly into my mouth and I gasped as his hint of anger intimately blended with his desire.

He nestled his lower body between my legs, while he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth before hotly stroking my tongue with his.

I moaned, moving my hands up along his muscular arms, across his shoulders and weaving my fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. "Don't do it?"

His panting was just as loud as mine as he pulled back just enough to breathe. I could still feel the small smile spread over his lips as they brushed against mine with the movement. His anger simmered down and he pulled back to cradle my face while still resting the weight of his upper body on his elbows. "Exactly."

His eyes moved over my face while the pads of his thumbs stroke my cheeks in symmetrical soft movements. "I called her to make sure that our covers were intact. That no one would come and look for us."

I tightened my hold on the back of his head.

"To keep you safe," he finished quietly and brushed his right thumb over my eyebrow, down over my eyelid. His being sighed with reverence, with disbelieving awe. Those feelings saturated his voice as he mumbled, "You're so beautiful. Inside and out."

I swallowed under the almost heavy weight of his emotions, before angling my chin up to catch his lips again.

I loved kissing him. I honestly think I could do it for days, barely stopping to eat and sleep. I loved how he poured his emotions into every small movement of his lips against mine. I loved how he tasted. How warm his lips were. How soft. How he could be gentle, but also deliciously rough.

I loved how his kisses echoed into every cranny of my soul - even the forgotten parts. How he would moan and sigh and just breathe against my sensitive lips, adding small vibrations to the sensations. How he would on occasion mumble my name, like I was everything to him. Like he couldn't believe that he was kissing me.

But he knew by now that I also loved his lips everywhere on my body. _Everywhere_. So it didn't surprise either of us when I pressed my pelvis against his when he moved away from my mouth, trailing down my neck.

The need was building even faster this time. Which I couldn't quite explain, having been well satiated mere hours ago. It didn't help that I was completely naked or that the part of me craving him the most was brushing against him with the erotic friction supplied by his boxers.

My hands fluttered down his back, the tips of my fingers pressing into his muscles, as he kissed over the hill of my breast, before slowly and teasingly swirling his tongue around my nipple.

I sighed in ecstasy and pressed my knees up and into his sides. His erection was pressing hard against me and I needed him as close as possible. As close as was possible with him still in his underwear.

His left hand reached up and removed my right from his back and curled our fingers together while he pulled my breast into his mouth. In my daze of desire and the uncontrollable reactions he was creating in me, I noted that he did that a lot. Grabbed my hand, pressing our palms together, as if it connected me to him on another level. A very personal level.

Just as the thought was drowned by the small explosions erupting in my body, Max pulled away, his fingers tightening around mine so tightly that it was painful. I probably wouldn't have reacted so strongly to his interruption if it hadn't been for the clear-cut shock slicing through his mind.

It made my back flatten against the bed, my eyes fly open, and my neck tighten as I angled my head to look at him.

"What is it?" I asked, hating how easy the fear crept into my voice. Was it always going to be like this from now on? Always on guard? Always on the brink of breaking into a run?

He met my eyes, looking pale in the soft lightning from the hallway, and his voice sounded strained and unstable as he slowly claimed, "You're…you're glowing."

My natural instinct was telling me to laugh at his way of expressing himself, at how amazed he seemed to be.

Of course I was glowing. _He_ made me glow. _He_ made me happy.

But my first instinct didn't quell the suspicions that he wasn't just talking figuratively. Slightly pulling on our interlocked hands, I rose up on my elbows and followed his gaze as he looked down at my chest.

Fear raced through me as I saw the faint golden blush against my skin, on the underside of my breast, which was still glistening from Max's mouth.

My eyes snapped back to Max with a gasp. "Did you…?"

He was watching me closely, his emotions through our connection changing too quickly for me to be able to decipher their meaning.

"I'm part of it," he said weakly and I watched him swallow slowly before he equally slowly brought his hand down to my breast.

I followed the movement of his hand and, even in the midst of the shocking detail of glowing skin, reacted sexually to his palm against my soft tissue. My body couldn't get enough of his; so finely in tune with his touch that I had to consciously concentrate to push the desire away and focus on the glow that was growing in intensity on my skin as Max moved his hand slowly around my breast and down my ribs.

It was like watching fire spread and the struggle to control my reactions to his touch was becoming harder and harder. My vision dimmed and the surroundings wobbled, like ripples on the surface of water, as I willed myself to focus on the glowing trail down my upper body and how it would slowly fade in the sections that became separated from Max's touch. Glowing weakly for a couple of seconds before completely disappearing.

I shut my eyes against the dizziness, Max's touch almost burning my skin, and it was my turn to tighten my hold on his hand.

I felt his eyes move to my closed ones, his gaze as intense as his touch, as his concern flooded me, making me arch into his body.

"Liz?"

He had stopped touching my body, his body frozen in a building panic. He could feel my dizziness, the burn blazing through me, and I had to block out his frantic discussion with himself to not fall deeper into the sensations.

"I'm fine," I managed to mumble, even though I knew that it was useless. Of course he would know that I wasn't as I felt sweat break out on my forehead and large trembles race through my body.

My eyes still closed, to try and maintain my equilibrium, I felt him move off me. His move was like an ice cold punch in my stomach and my eyes flew open, my vision clear, even when my body trembled with the cold.

I flickered an anxious gaze towards him, noticed the frightened expression on his face, the helplessness in the strained position of his body, and whispered, "No. No."

Reading my plead, he shook his head resolutely. "I'm hurting you."

I gasped against the cold, bit my lip to stop me from crying out, and said, rather harshly, "Yes. Over there you are."

I knew that he could feel what his absence was doing to me, still he was ambivalent, feeling that whatever he did I was going to get hurt.

"This is right," I croaked. "I know it. I can feel it."

"Liz…" he warned, his eyes traveling down my body, and I saw his mind automatically looking for injuries. His concern and love for me, coupled with his eyes moving down the full length of my naked body, scrutinizing every visible detail of me, melted the cold in me with a bright flame.

He snapped his head up to mine, his eyes widening and his pupils dilating. He could feel it too. The heat. The energy. The power.

Feeling restless and intensely frustrated, I rapidly pulled myself up into a seated position, tried to regain the control over my body for about two seconds before I gave up, turned and practically attacked Max.

My movement took him by surprise, so he offered no resistance when I pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him.

"Liz-," he started with a mumble, but that was all he got out before I bent down, my breasts brushing against his chest, and fused our lips together.

His hands flew to my waist, his fingers curling into the softness of my hips, as my hands fisted into his hair.

My kiss was urgent, needy and almost desperate. He met my every assault with no hesitation, his body tightening deliciously beneath mine. I moved my hands down his neck and felt the heat in my palms. Interrupting my kiss, I looked down at my hands and saw the glow that followed my touch down his throat.

I gasped in amazement, but Max didn't look to see what I had reacted to. He could see everything he needed through the connection. Instead he kept looking at me, silently observing every nuance on my face.

"I can do it to you," I whispered, struck by the awe of it.

"Of course you can," he whispered back, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I looked up at him and smiled. A smile that exploded across my face and saturated the connection with pure joy and love.

Because at that moment we both realized what this meant.

It had worked. Something had changed in our connection. Something had developed.

I wouldn't even let the hesitation in his mind damper my happiness. I wasn't listening to his quiet musings about glows and that they were just a natural developmental stage of the gaea, not having anything to do with our connection specifically.

Instead I leaned down and kissed his chest, pressing my well-loved lips against the hardness of his pectoral, before kissing his nipple.

His hands moved to my ass with his moan of appreciation and he pressed my upper body forward, making me rub against him in a heavenly way.

"This is not a regular development," I sighed, leaning my forehead against his ribs. I could not only hear, but feel, the strength of his heart beating inside his chest. "This is not just me being ready."

He was agreeing with me. It was a tentative agreement, as if he was afraid to actually believe it, but he was feeling it too. The strengthening of our connection. The way invisible threads of energy were weaving our bodies and minds together. How some type of power was building, a feeling of being able to take on the world, growing between us.

I reached up to press my lips to him in another hungry kiss while brushing my hands down his abdomen, teasing the sensitive sides of his body with my fluttering touch, until I reached the elastic material at the top of his boxers.

Regretfully, I severed the intimate touch between our mouths and sat back on the lower part of his abdomen. He groaned at the contact of me against him and let his hands stroke around the front of my waist and up my chest, over my breasts and watched my head fall back in ecstasy as he moved up over my thin shoulders before fluttering down my arms.

I took a deep breath, trying to still the churning energy inside of me - inside of _us_ \- but I quickly realized that it was impossible. Breathing - actually, just _existing_ \- seemed to only fuel whatever was happening further.

We both knew what we needed. We both knew what the connection was asking of us.

In effect, my movements were hurried to the point that Max laughed quietly at me under his own strained breathing, as I moved off him only to authoritatively grab his underwear and yank them down his legs.

My chest tightened with longing and blazing attraction as his need for me was exposed and I had to practically drag me eyes away to look at his face.

I swallowed against the darkness in his eyes, the sexy blush on his cheeks, and said breathlessly, "I really really hope you had more than one condom with you."

He smiled slowly and winked, before hitching his chin towards the floor. "Back pocket."

I could feel his eyes following every movement of my naked body as I laid down on my stomach to reach over the edge of the bed and fumble through his jeans. My hands came upon three packets and I flushed, his amused chuckle in response to my thoughts making me almost explode right there. The thought that he had, after all, been so optimistic about tonight didn't shock me, didn't even make me question his intentions, but just made me feel very flattered and desirable.

I grunted against the heat in my center, quickly put the all the packets, save for one, back into his pocket and hauled my upper body back up onto the bed.

He was leaning up on his elbows as I crawled towards him, my shaking hands trying to get through the foil wrapper. His hand closed around my trembling one and he gave me a soft smile as he gently removed the packet from my hand and brought it to his mouth. I watched as he bit into the corner of the packet and ripped it open with his teeth.

The animalistic feelings that act awoke in me sharpened the ache in me to almost unbearable proportions and I restlessly rocked my lower body in my seated position and gasped sensually, "Hurry up."

The opened packet in one hand, he caught my chin with his other and sharply pulled my mouth to his, flushing our lips together in a passionate kiss that was as wild and untamed as the feelings building in us.

Then his hands were everywhere, softly kneading my breasts, caressing my arms, my abdomen and pressing against the tight bundle of my desire.

I cried out in his mouth and he inserted a finger inside of me. My insides clamped down around him and it was the only thing that was needed for me to reach that peak. I moaned his name, throwing my head backwards as my hips slowly rocked twice against his hand.

Feeling the release in my body, a release that failed to remove the ache, I slumped against him as he wrapped his arms around me.

His thought was amused and teasing, _We really need to work on your stamina._

I laughed softly against his chest and shook my head. "What would be the point of that?"

He shared my laughter and mumbled, "Yeah, that was a stupid suggestion."

I nodded, brushed my lips against his chest and pulled back. To Max's surprise, I reached out and grabbed the condom that was still in his hand.

I saw him move to take it back, but then think again and stop.

"Let me," I whispered, not a trace of nervousness in my soul. We were one, when connected like this there was nothing to be nervous or embarrassed about. There was no performance anxiety or any expectations.

It was just us. Max and Liz.

That didn't stop my hands from trembling slightly as I put the condom on. Maybe part of it was that he didn't quite manage to keep his hips still as I touched him. The fact that his desire seemed out of his control fueled my confidence, and upon completing the protective task I climbed on top of him and pushed him back down on his back.

His laughter was breathy and surprised as he questioned in amusement, "Who _are_ you?"

I winked at him - yeah, I almost shocked myself - and relished in the tight grip of his hands on my waist as he reached up to steady me. I gently grabbed his erection and slowly lowered myself onto him.

It was different like this. Not as intimate as the first time we'd made love. But my feelings as I looked down at the passionate expressions on his face blended seamlessly with the energy that was pulsing through me. The wildness and primal need to bind us together. It made me feel the possessiveness and protectiveness towards this man just like I had - many times - second-handedly experienced those feelings towards myself from him through the connection.

As I slowly bound our bodies together - my desire building at the emotions on his face - the simmering energy began to vibrate inside of us. I placed one hand against his thigh behind me and one against his taut abdomen as I directed the movement. Wanting him to relinquish his control to me. Wanting him to just _feel_ , like he had made me do - over and over again - during our first coupling.

It was not an easy thing for him to do. Surrender all his power, his control. Even if it was just momentarily. Even if it was just to me. Even if it was through love-making.

I was vaguely aware of the golden shimmer pulsating off our bodies as our minds unwrapped themselves, bringing us back in history, making us glimpse memories, experiences, as they weaved and flashed through our connection.

What surprised me the most about that wasn't Max's memories - a part of him that I had only gotten glimpses of before - but the memories involving me (both from Max's mind and mine) - that I didn't even remember.

Which told us that my erased memories were not actually _erased_. They were dormant, hidden, with the possibility of being brought back.

With our shared experiences, our memories of our parents, our upbringings, laughter, love and sorrow, filling our connection, while our bodies moved in beautiful synchrony, our emotions brought us to immeasurable levels making me lose track of where I started and he ended.

My climax drowned in our gasps and moans, in our boundless world of memories, but Max never lost track of me or what was happening to me. As I weakened with the release, he sat up, bringing our chest together, and folded my sweaty upper body in his warm arms.

He kissed the tears of my surrender off my cheeks, our bodies gently and slowly rocking together as he let me come down from my high.

"Are you okay?" he whispered and pressed a kiss between my eyebrows as he waited for me to find my voice.

"Overwhelmed," I breathed.

"Understatement," he matched my declaration.

I managed to bring my tired arms around his waist and pressed my forehead into the curve of his neck, trying to still my breaths.

I could feel his heart beat against my breasts, matching the beat of my own heart, as we just sat there, gently moving together, keeping our desire open but focusing on the love. Our position brought us very close together, my knees pressing into his sides and my behind resting on top of his thighs. I believe the only parts of me that weren't touching him were my toes.

He brushed my hair off my damp shoulder, traced the sprinkle of freckles over my shoulder, occasionally grazing my skin with his teeth as the desire became too much, when the feeling of being inside of me, so tightly bound to me, almost became unbearable.

But it was as if he knew, even though I didn't, that we had been needing that break, had needed that moment to calm everything down, to not break apart.

When Max felt the ache twist in my stomach anew, he slowly and tenderly moved our connected bodies down on the bed, me under him, needing that full on connection between our bodies. We remained intimately linked, as close to each other that was physically possible without actually crawling into each other, as he moved inside me, bringing us to wonderful completion.

Sealing the bond firmly between us, which - as we would later find out - would give me an indirect access to his alien gifts...


	50. FIFTY

_brokenbride - Thank you so much!_

* * *

 **FIFTY**

"Come. Come with me."

I looked up into his blue eyes, the fear rushing through me like ice cold water, and I slowly shook my head in refusal at his offered hand.

"No."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lizzie. There are sharks in these deserts. We need to be careful."

The almost painfully bright rays of the sun bounced off against the calm surface of the small lake behind him and I wondered if he was telling the truth. How could sharks live there anyway?

The sand was burning into my feet as I shook my head. "I don't want to go with you."

"There's no one else, Liz," he said and as I looked up at him his face had been shrouded in shadows. I couldn't make out his features anymore. "We're alone here."

"No," I refused. There had to be someone else.

While I blinked the person in front of me was replaced by someone else. Golden brown eyes looked down at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Come. Come with me."

I found myself shaking my head again. This surprised me. I didn't want to go with him either. It didn't feel safe. My whole body was tightening in fear and every instinct I owned was screaming at me to run. Run far away in the opposite direction.

"It's me," his soft voice - which I knew so well - coaxed. "It's just me."

"I don't trust you," I whispered. Behind his head, clouds pulled up. Dark, thunderous clouds. I added in a hard-set, "A storm is coming."

"Yes," he mumbled and grabbed my arm.

I startled, feeling his normally gentle fingers digging harshly into my upper arm, and pulled backwards. "Let me go!"

"What's wrong, Lizzie? You love me, remember?"

My breath hitched coldly in my chest as I watched his face change right in front of my eyes. His eyes turned larger, lost their brown as the pupils drowned everything out. His mouth disappeared - faded - while his skin shifted color.

"No…" I whispered, feeling the fingers of the hand around my arm elongate and curl almost two loops around my arm.

"You love all of me," the…thing in front of me said. But there were no lips moving ( _there were no lips_ ) and the telepathic voice was grating painfully against my mind.

"You told me…" My body was falling apart in fear. I was shaking so badly I could barely form the next thought. The clouds were moving in, blocking out the sun, and darkening our surroundings.

"You've bonded with me." The large bottomless, emotionless eyes stared at me. "It's too late to go back. You're mine. You're all mine."

He snaked the fingers around my other arm, trapping me in coldness. I struggled against his hold, fear fueling me to extreme levels.

Thunder ripped across the sky and I bolted awake.

"Are you okay?"

I flinched at the hand that came up on my shoulder, my breath harsh and labored in my chest as my eyes flickered around the dark room trying to orient myself.

"Liz?" his voice said next to mine and his strong presence both next to me in the bed and in my mind was coaxing me to calm down.

I ran my hands up across my cheeks and through my hair. My face was damp, my scalp equally sweaty. Heartbeat after heartbeat was thundering against the inside of my ribcage.

I felt the sheet move around my waist as he shifted beside me.

 _Safe. I'm safe. I'm safe safe safe._

The mantra was rather unsuccessfully trying to convince me of that. Because the dream was still too prevalent in my mind. It had scared me. Really shaken me to the core.

Blinding fear coiled in my stomach as he put his hands on my upper arms and my body jumped with a fearful gasp.

The hands fell away immediately. "Jesus, Liz. It's just me. You're here with me."

I tried to still my breaths as his words ( _It's just me._ ) imitated the ones from my nightmare.

"It was a bad dream," he said gently. "You're back."

My heart was still beating all over the place when I slowly looked over my shoulder - almost anticipating large black eyes to look back at me - and was faced with Max's concerned, emotional and warm eyes.

A sob surprised me and my body surrendered to the relief that it was just him. It was Max.

He took this as a sign to put his arms around me and pull me against his warm chest. A remnant of fear momentarily teased my mind before I let myself succumb to his comforting touch.

I didn't cry. There were only the shocked occasional dry sobs that fanned against his chest. My mind was too occupied with what I had seen in that dream. I was too shaken up to really focus on the fact that Max was reading my every thought and going through my dream along with me. I was too shaken up to notice how his warmth kept moving in and out of the connection; weakening and normalizing.

After a couple of minutes, I pulled back, brushed my hair back and looked at his face. There was an unreadable expression across his countenance and I frowned as more parts of him were gradually shielded from me. I was curled up on his lap, both of us naked in close physical proximity, but I felt the mental distance growing between us.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, wondering if he was rocked by my behavior, about my reaction to a simple little dream.

"It's okay," he mumbled back, but except for my body resting in his lap, he didn't actively touch me. "You're okay."

As I searched his face, prodded against the walls in his mind - like someone would search a wall for an hollow sound, a weakness, an opening - I started to analyze what had happened. What had changed?

The stereotypical alien face flashed in my mind.

Maybe I just figured it out or maybe Max had let me see it. It was hard to tell which.

My eyes widened as I looked at him in horror. "No…" My faint whisper was regretful and apologetic. "I didn't mean- I was-" How do you excuse a nightmare that your fucked up brain had constructed?

"I'm not that," Max said quietly, averting his eyes from mine and I felt the coldness seep into my bones. "I told you… I'm not that. I'll never look like that." A shudder raced through his body so violently that I felt it against my still one. "And I would never treat you like that."

"I know," I whispered and a tear rolled down my cheek. I was hating myself for putting him through this. I already knew the insecurities he was struggling with pertaining to his origins, and to have me basically accuse him of being a cold alien had to be…

"I'm sorry," I said faintly, feeling mutually mortified and distraught.

"It was a dream," he filled in my apology as he looked up at me and offered me a soft smile (which didn't reach his eyes). "I know."

I hesitated, not sure where the boundaries were. Not sure if I was doing the right thing. But I simply decided on closing the gap between our lips and kiss him gently.

He didn't pull away, but it felt nothing like kissing Max. He was holding himself back, his mind shaken as much by my dream as I had been.

Without his responding passion and smoldering fire, the tightness in my stomach contracted further as I tried to coax a reaction out of him. It was frighteningly lonely without the heated response that almost had become second nature by now.

"Please," I whispered against his lips and put my hands around the back of his neck. I threaded my hands through his hair, concurrently urging his head closer.

"I'm really scared," I admitted in desperation and, to my relief, felt his lips slowly respond as possessiveness floated through the connection, strongly followed by protectiveness and concern. Lastly, as he put his hands around my chilled back and flushed my front with his, an overwhelming wave of love flooded our connection making tears of relief run down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I repeated in the brief pause between kisses.

"No," he said and pulled back, his fingers fluttering lightly down my shoulder blades and further along my spine. My body shivered in delight as it grew more and more aware of its position against Max's body. He caught my eyes and I felt his mind soften through the connection, letting me see more of him again. "You shouldn't apologize. I just…"

As he trailed off I could see that he was embarrassed about his reaction, knowing that I couldn't help what my subconscious made up, and knowing that it was my way of dealing with everything that had happened. He couldn't blame me for that.

But I could also see that it had really hurt him. It had really hurt him that he had been such a frightening part of my nightmare. That I had pictured him as cold and in the shape of an alien - a classic Grey.

I shook my head, cradling his cheek in my hand. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. "I don't know why I dreamt that, but it wasn't you, Max. Even if it _looked_ like you, I'm pretty sure it wasn't you. It didn't feel right. I would've trusted you. I trust you with my life."

He opened his eyes and quietly searched my face. "Maybe it was trying to tell you something."

 _God, I hope not._

Against the background of my very loud thought in our connection, I nodded. "Maybe." I brushed my thumb slowly over his bottom lip and added in a whisper, "But that wasn't you. That could never be you."

I could tell that he was still trying to trust that; his insecurities were deeply ingrained in him and I had just accidentally emphasized those insecurities in him. But he probably wouldn't let it go just yet.

"Thank you," he whispered and kissed me gently.

We both jumped as his cell phone started ringing.

My panicked fear from the dream was still lingering in my body, the intrusive and sudden sound of his phone causing my heartbeat to trip, and I dug my fingers desperately into his upper arms. "Who is that?"

His eyes softened as he looked back at me. "It's my alarm. It's time to go home."

The fear clawed itself into my heart, making it miss another beat. His statement brought on a whole new set of fears in me.

* * *

The hour hand had just passed five as we made our way to the car. Our minds were quiet in the wake of what had happened just hours ago. Of what we had shared. Of all the overwhelming emotions.

But also of the 'crime' we had committed and what the repercussions might be.

Our minds had been emptied, exhausted of possibilities and anxiety-ridden prospects. Our minds shared a shocked silence. What would happen now?

Max was still keeping things from me, but I didn't want to rock anything by questioning it. Not yet. Reading my mind, he reached out and took my hand in his as we walked up to the car. But even if he knew what I was thinking about, he didn't remove the censoring of his mind.

It was still dark outside and the desert chill was surrounding me like a threatening cloak. But I didn't last long in the comfort of the car, with Max turning the heat up and comfortably navigating the streets to get to the main road between Hondo and Roswell, until I fell asleep.

* * *

His fingers were gentle against my cheek as his touch slowly brought me out of sleep. "Kitten…"

I moaned against the intrusion and curled away from the hand. He, apparently, then decided to use a more alien-based method and projected images of some very-

My eyes flew open as one of his fantasies burned into my mind. I blinked against the scolding desire teasing my body, before groaning with fatigue and meeting his eyes.

"Hey," he said, looking guilty and gorgeous in the darkness of the car.

I swallowed slowly at the hot churn which had come to life between my legs and then immediately flushed at my reaction, glaring at him as I focused on the connection he was keeping at the highest level with his hand pressed against the back of my neck.

 _God! What have you done to me, Max Evans? You've created a sex addict!_

His laughter was so immediate and warm that he probably surprised himself and my whole body warmed with indescribable happiness.

 _You haven't exactly gone easy on me either, Ms. Parker._

"Whatever," I grumbled. I rubbed at my eyes, but froze as I took in the surroundings outside of the car.

Wait.

Where was I?

This was not my house.

"We're at my house," Max answered quietly and I snapped my eyes towards his face, the recent blush rapidly draining from my face along with any remaining facial color.

"Why?" I whispered, unconsciously reaching out and grabbing his thigh to still the trembles.

He looked at me closely before grabbing the fingers I had used to nervously clench onto his thigh and brought my hand to his mouth. Placing a kiss against my knuckles, he said simply, "Because you belong with me. And I'm through with this charade. I need to tell my dad that."

 _Holy crap._

I stared at him, searched his face for any signs that he wasn't telling the truth, but I knew that he really meant it.

This was what he had been hiding from me. I felt for that blockage in his mind, but it was gone. He hadn't wanted me to know, not wanted me to worry beforehand, or think about anything else than our time together, when we had been in Hondo. He hadn't wanted me to know that he had planned this for the last couple of hours.

That he was setting himself up to risk everything to get permission to be with me.

There was so many feelings running through me that I was starting to feel faint. I was unspeakably happy about him intending to stand up for us and that he had no further interest in hiding what we were going through. But at the same time I was terrified of how his father would react; if he would still force us apart and throw me directly to Sean, if he would erase our minds and hence steal our memories, or if our confession would not only get us punished but also killed.

"There's only one way to find out," Max mumbled grimly as he pulled back and slowly stepped out of the car.

Leaving me with my heart thumping out of my chest, my breathing severely compromised, and my arms tightly folded around my waist.


	51. FIFTY-ONE

_dootadoot and brokenbride - Thank you so much for the feedback!_

* * *

 **FIFTY-ONE**

"Oh my God," Isabel gasped as she met us in the door.

Max was holding tightly onto my hand and I was trying to get my shaking legs under control. Isabel's widening eyes and frozen reaction to our presence wasn't really doing anything to calm my nerves.

"Hey," Max greeted quietly, apparently deciding to not dwell any further into Isabel's reaction.

Isabel put her hand on Max's arm, stopping him. "What did you do?"

I felt the heat rush to Max's face and his fingers tightened around mine. "You know what-"

Isabel rolled her eyes. I noted that she wasn't wearing any make-up and her hair was an unorganized collection of strands. She was wearing cotton pajamas with cupcake print.

"I know what you've _done_ ," she said, slightly annoyed. "But there's…" She put her head to the side and let her eyes drift across our bodies. She tapped her long finger against her mouth in contemplation. "There's something else…"

"Is dad up?" Max interrupted and my eyes flickered to his profile as I was brutally brought back to our reality.

The reality in which we had to face Max's father and lay our relationship out in front of him.

Isabel's face paled. "You're really doing this?"

"Is he in the kitchen?" Max asked, his voice filled with the tension that was thrumming through his body.

Isabel nodded and added weakly, "Yeah…"

Max squeezed my hand and then we were walking. Towards the kitchen.

"Max," Mr. Evans voiced from the kitchen as we got closer to the entrance. "I thought I heard your voice."

Under Max's guidance, we rounded the vaulted doorless doorframe and stepped into the impressive kitchen. Mr. Evans was over by the coffee machine, his back towards us. He was dressed in beige stylish trousers and a white shirt.

"You were supposed to come ho-" I froze along with him as he turned around and noticed me standing next to his son.

He frowned for a second, before his face bloomed in barely convincing surprised joy. "Oh, Ms. Parker. I wasn't expecting you." He glanced at the clock on the wall and I felt the temperature in the room drop a couple of degrees as his voice turned even happier. "Especially not at 6.03 a.m."

"We need to talk," Max declared and I was impressed by the strength and calmness of his voice.

I watched Mr. Evans slowly look to Max and my interlocked hands, his face unreadable, before he gestured towards the kitchen table. "Take a seat."

Max lead me by the hand and pulled out a chair for me. I sat down slowly, keeping my eyes on Mr. Evans as he approached the opposite side of the table. As soon as Max sat down next to me, he released our hands, grabbed the sides of my chair, let it scrape against the floor as pulled me up so close to his that the chairs bumped together.

I looked at him in surprise at his obvious display of possessiveness, but his face was almost as unreadable as his father's when he glanced at me before grabbing my hand again.

I refocused my attention on Max's father, wondering how I was supposed to hear anything of this discussion over the roaring sound of my blood in my ears.

"We need your help," Max said evenly and Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes slightly while leaning back against the backrest.

I watched him cross his arms across his chest and his voice was no longer shrouded in feigned happiness. It was as cold as the air around him. "What have you done, Max?"

"Liz and I are bonded," Max said, his voice still not bearing any signs of the rattling worry that I was receiving through that aforementioned bond.

Mr. Evans showed no expressions on his face. "I know this, Max. I discovered as much when I was trying to search through her mind, remember?"

Max tensed next to me and I watched the memory from that day in the study drift through Max's mind. I wasn't sure if Max had believed that he had managed to fool his father that the bond had been broken since then, but the fact that Mr. Evans seemed so confident in his knowledge of our connection told me that Mr. Evans knew just how hard it was to break a connection.

Which was possibly why Max's father hadn't told Max to break our bond that day in the study; only that he should remove my memories.

It also didn't seem to surprise Mr. Evans that my memories obviously were intact. Despite the fact that Max was supposed to have erased my memories and seeing that Max was practically announcing our relationship by using very alien-related terms.

"It's more than that," Max continued, a faint tremble of insecurity to his voice. "We're _deeply_ bonded." He said it with emphasis accompanied by a pointed look at his father and I got the feeling that there was an unspoken dialogue there. Maybe something that had been said before, discussed between Max and his father.

I bit my lip in contemplation. Maybe Max and Isabel had heard of a 'double bonding' from their father. Of all people - since he was a healer too - he should know about it. Right?

Mr. Evans interrupted my speculations with a calm, "That's obvious."

 _How?_ I wondered quietly, but refrained from looking at Max.

"And we are going to stay bonded," Max continued resolutely.

Mr. Evans evenly scrutinized his son's face. "You are, are you?"

"Yes," Max said with no room for objections. "And you're going to help us do that."

There was a beat. Evans Senior stared at Evans Junior and the room was building up with suffocating tension.

Then Mr. Evans looked at me. I froze under his cold stare. "What have my son been telling you, Liz? Has he promised you a 'happily ever after'? Dazzled you with his alien powers? Or was it the sex that won you over?"

Max's hand tightened painfully around mine and hot anger exploded through our connection, infusing us both with the emotion.

"Don't talk to her like that," Max threatened in a hiss.

Mr. Evans ignored his son's threat and continued staring at me, smirking. "Because I know how great it can be with a connection. Trust me."

"You don't know anything," I whispered in anger. Max was tense beside me and I half expected him to spring off his chair and lunge at his father at any time.

"Oh, little girl," Mr. Evans continued, the smirk remaining on his face. "I know a lot. And I know a lot about you." He gave me a pointed look before arching an eyebrow at Max. "Has Max let you in on everything he has done to you over the years - without you being allowed to keep the memories?"

I ignored the brush of insecure guilt from Max's side and snapped, "You mean comforting me? Healing me?"

Mr. Evans just stared at me, his face blank, before the right side of his mouth twitched every so slightly. "Right."

I couldn't help but look at Max. Because even though I had told myself to never trust any words that came out of Philip Evans' mouth, I couldn't help but be rattled by the hinted meaning in his sentences. Only because I knew that I definitely didn't know everything that had happened during my upbringing.

I did, however, know more now than I had just a couple of hours ago. The strengthening of our bond had made me glimpse memories that were supposed to have been erased a long time ago.

Max shook his head imperceptibly and told me through the connection, _He's trying to throw you off._

 _Right._ And he had succeeded.

 _Believe in us._ His plead was almost desperate, afraid of losing me.

I squeezed his fingers. _Of course I do, silly. He won't be able to change that._

He relaxed against my thoughts and I felt his confidence build as he straightened in the chair and stared at his father.

"You can't separate us," Max said. "You'd have to kill us to do that."

I blanched, for a second worried that Max was giving his father ideas. But rationally, of course, I knew that the idea was already present; a very real and threatening presence lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.

I had a feeling that Max was being rather literal about it. The only way to break the bond at this point would probably be to kill one of us.

"Yes," Mr. Evans agreed slowly, leaning forward in his seat with equal slowness. "I know, son." He sighed and to my surprise I watched his face soften as he looked at his son. Something akin to resignation came over him and it was like watching the air go out of a small hole in a balloon. "That's what I was trying to prevent."

Max seemed momentarily confused, just like me, by the change that came over his father, but pushed on.

"It's done," Max said resolutely. "Liz and I are together. Forever."

 _Forever._ In the midst of the fear that was practically immobilizing me, deep genuine happiness flowed through me.

"And what are you supposed to do now?" Mr. Evans asked, a trace of annoyance in his voice. I was perplexed by the fact that I was starting to see more and more of an emotional span on Mr. Evans' face.

His facade was cracking.

Max hesitated and I could feel his confusion about what to answer. "We have to make the rest of the community see that. They have to let her go. The military, Sarge, Sean - they'd have to let her go."

Mr. Evans' gaze was hard-set. "And you want me to-" He raised his eyebrow with incredulity, "-vouch for you?"

Max took a deep breath. "I need you to help me, Dad." There was a vulnerability in his request that tugged sharply at my heart strings, and to my relief I could see that it had made some impact on the elder Evans as well.

"She's part of me," Max continued, his heart visibly bleeding on his sleeve. "I can't let her go. I never could. I really tried. I really tried to not put you in this position, Dad, but I can't do it anymore." He looked at me and my heart hurt at the rawness in his eyes. "I can't just stand by and watch her get hurt. I can't."

There was a pause of silence which I barely noticed as I was bathing in the love displayed in Max's eyes, before Mr. Evans said quietly, "I'm highly aware of that, Max."

Both of us snapped our heads towards Mr. Evans in surprise. I don't know which one of us was more shocked about the look of genuine concern on Philip Evans' face.

"I was afraid it would lead to this," Mr. Evans continued. "Ever since you two met for the first time. How easily you connected, almost immediately."

I blanched as our minds filled with the images of the vision we had shared as our bodies had reached their peaks the night before.

So it had been real. We had connected as young.

"We met when we were little," Max said slowly, fishing for more information.

Mr. Evans barely looked surprised as Max hinted towards knowing more about that incident than he was supposed to. "You were five. Nancy-" Mr. Evans looked at me with honest sadness in his eyes, "-your mother - had been taken when you were with her. That normally didn't happen, but it was an emergency. You saw a lot that day. Things a child shouldn't see. Certainly not a human child."

I shivered, but he continued. "So we needed to remove your memories." He sighed. "But Nancy wouldn't let us. Even though I tried to inform her that you might be irreparably damaged by those memories, she wouldn't let us use our abilities on you."

I bit my lip at the memory of my mother. My voice was weak and bearing unmistakable emotional strain as I whispered, "What happened?"

"You tried to escape," Mr. Evans said slowly and looked at his son. "Then Max showed up." He shook his head tiredly. "Max had terrible timing as a kid."

 _Or very good timing,_ I thought. It had lead to us connecting. Would Max still have been interested in me (Interested in protecting me? Protecting me against Sean?) if that hadn't happened? Without Max's 'bad timing' I might have been open season for Sean right now.

Mr. Evans was searching my face and I had an uncomfortable feeling that he was seeing straight through me. Just like his son had an uncanny ability to do. Even without a connection.

"We had to assume that there was a connection formed between you when you touched, because you both passed out-"

"Why can't I remember that, Dad?" Max asked.

Mr. Evans looked at his son. "We searched your minds and found the connection. Because Liz is human we could turn the connection off fairly simply. But you…" he shook his head, "You were more difficult. We could see it there, we could _feel_ it, but we couldn't remove it."

"How is it possible to turn a connection off on one side while it remains active on the other?" I asked, confused. Didn't the connection automatically break both ways when one side lost it?

I could feel Max's interest in that same question flare in my mind as Mr. Evans replied, with none of his usual confidence, "It's not. I think that's where things went wrong. Sarge was certain that he had removed the connection from your mind, Liz, but since Max's was still there - theoretically there should've been at least a trace of it left in your mind. But it could not be detected."

"And you didn't find this odd?" Max asked, frowning.

"We had never dealt with anything like that before. Instantaneous involuntary connections don't happen every day. Especially not between children." Mr. Evans sighed. "We were in new territory."

Great. My life was built on rarity. I carried a rare gene, I had fallen in love with a healer (healing being a rare ability), I had just been part of creating something that might be a double-bond with that said alien (which was…rare) and apparently I had also engaged in a rare act of bonding as a child.

"So my connection was removed on the spot?" I asked slowly, and added, "Or at least that's what you believed."

Mr. Evans gave a slow nod, his face impassive.

"But you couldn't remove the connection on Max's side..?" I frowned. "So…you left it there? He's been connected to me all this time?"

The idea of that didn't necessarily scare me, but it didn't bring me any joy, either. Actually, I was very confused about how to feel about the whole situation.

Max interrupted my contradictory thoughts with a flat statement. "You sent me to Sarah."

I frowned. _Sarah?_ The image of a beautiful brunette with a warm smile floated through my head.

"Yes," Mr. Evans nodded.

"Why Isabel?" Max questioned.

"She came along to drop you off, but she wouldn't get in the car with us if you were being left behind. She was throwing up a real fit and you were no better, son. We figured that we would let you be together, even though it hurt your mother to leave both of you behind."

This was the reason why Max and Isabel had moved from Roswell when Max had been five and hadn't returned until Max had turned six. Max had been hauled off to some place for…rehabilitation (?) and Isabel had followed.

"What happened there?" I asked with a fearful breath. "Where did you leave them?"

Mr. Evans looked at me and slowly shook his head. "I might as well tell you, since you're either going to be a large part of Max's life or you're going to be dead."

I shivered at the dispassionate statement, but I knew that he was right. There was no turning back now. We were going public.

"It's arranged by our military. A place for re-education. Re-programming of our own kind. It's used to remove unwanted experiences, but also to treat agitators and get them back in line. Our best mind-wipers work there and in conjunction with certain other methods, they achieve excellent results." He sighed. "Max was the youngest one to ever be admitted. And he stayed there for about 11 months before they were completely certain that the connection had been removed."

I was stunned. _11 months?!_ It had taken the best mind-wipers (in Mr. Evans' own words) 11 months to erase the connection in a young boy's mind.

I huffed before I could stop myself. "And still you have most likely pushed for Max to remove his connection to me, even though it was so difficult the first time?"

I was, again, thinking back to that day in the study, when Max had pretended to remove my memories.

Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes at my implication of obvious stupidity, but clarified evenly, "I was hoping that Max would fall back on everything he had learnt, on his upbringing and his - previous - loyalty to our laws and voluntarily break the connection. Because the people at the institute believed that Max himself was the only one that would be able to turn off the connection. He had to do it himself."

"I would never do that," Max said, his voice certain and unwavering.

"Yes," Mr. Evans said slowly. "I can see that now."

"Who's Sarah?" I asked, the friendly face still in my head.

Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "Have you told her anything about Sarah?"

Max shook his head and when I looked at his profile I saw the hint of defiant triumph on his face. "No. But my mind just did."

Mr. Evans' confidence faltered as he flickered his eyes between the young couple in front of him. "You're sharing thoughts."

"I told you that we were bonded in every way possible," Max said simply, but his surprise at his father's reaction was seeping through.

I frowned at Max's mild surprise. Wasn't it common of a bonded couple to share thoughts…?

Mr. Evans ignored him. "Even when you're not concentrating?"

"I need to touch her," Max answered, pulling back his triumph, softening with honesty. "But yeah."

"Right," Mr. Evans nodded slowly and inhaled before turning his - much softer than before - eyes on me. "Sarah was Max's caregiver when he was at the institution. She was human, the wife of a hybrid military man working at the site. She was hired just to tend to Max, because they realized that he needed a maternal figure - considering that he was so young. They didn't want to jeopardize the mental health of a healer."

"Of course," I bit out bitterly. Strategy. It was all strategy. For a second there, I had almost hoped that there was a hint of something more to their society. Something that cared enough to think of providing comfort for a young boy separated from his family. But of course there had to have been an agenda.

"I would bet Max will tell you that she meant a lot to him," Mr. Evans said slowly and I thought I detected jealousy in his voice while I felt the warm fuzzy feelings Max's memory of the brunette named Sarah heating at the front of our connection.

Mr. Evans was obviously right about suspecting that Sarah had played a large part of Max's life. And it kinda pleased me that he was slightly upset that another person - a parental figure - had meant so much to his son.

Just as suddenly, the doctor's face hardened and he stated, "The military is not just going to let this slide. You know that as well as I do, son."

I tensed and Max mimicked that act.

"That's why I need your help," Max insisted.

Wanting Mr. Evans to hear me, I decided to speak to Max openly instead of secretly in our minds, "Can we trust him?" referring to Mr. Evans.

Max looked at me briefly before looking at his father and provoking, "I don't know. Can we, Dad?"

"Don't be coy," Mr. Evans warned.

"What says you're not just gonna turn us in?" I demanded, surprised at my own bravery.

Anger flushed in Mr. Evans' eyes and I momentarily considered Max's statement that pure aliens didn't have emotions. How much of that was true? Or was it a truth with modification?

I thought I had seen evidence of genuine emotions on Mr. Evans' face just counting the present conversation.

"I understand that I have not given you the best impression, Ms. Parker," Mr. Evans enunciated. "But I _do_ care for my son. If I hadn't, you two would have been separated a long time ago and my own son would probably be dead."

Max's hand trembled in mine and I gulped. "What do you mean?"

"Max's status as a healer will only bring him so far. In the end, everyone's expendable."

And I suddenly realized, partly from what Max was accidentally thinking of at his father's statement, that Mr. Evans had already saved his son on several occasions.

When I had thought - _assumed_ \- that Mr. Evans had been part of handing out punishments to his son, cheering the Sergeant on in his monstrous methods, Max's father had tried to avert crisis after crisis. Softening blows. Reducing punishments. Keeping secrets.

My mouth fell open and I looked at Max. _Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me that your father was on your side?_

Max met my eyes and said softly, "It would have been too dangerous for you to have that information, considering Sean's proximity to you. Plus-," Max grimaced sheepishly, "-you probably wouldn't have believed me anyway, since you were convinced that he was a spawn of Satan."

Mr. Evans scoffed at Max's statement and while I normally would have glared at him, I couldn't anymore. Instead, I turned to him and said, honestly, "Thank you."

I couldn't tell which of the men was more shocked by my display of gratitude as they stared at me.

Then Mr. Evans said simply. "Like I said, Ms. Parker. He's my flesh and blood. I don't want him hurt and I really don't want him dead."

I was actually feeling a bit guilty when I nodded. "Yeah."

"And the best way to keep him safe is to remove you from the equation," Mr. Evans said, causing Max to instantly release my hand and bring his arm around my shoulders, angling my body into his side.

I hadn't fully interpreted the underlying threat before Max reacted.

Mr. Evans shook his head in mild amusement. "Relax, Max. I'm just stating a fact."

There was a loaded pause before Max did just that. He released some of the pressure against my shoulders, but let his arm remain in place.

"Right," Max agreed with a reluctant grumble.

"It will be dangerous," Mr. Evans mused, "But the best thing is probably for you two to make an appearance at the scheduled meeting tonight. It's important that they see you together, so that they can evaluate the bond."

Max paled and I put my hand on his thigh, needing to feel closer to him.

"Yes," Max agreed. "Of course."

"There is the possibility that they'll realize that the bond cannot be broken and see through their fingers about you having bonded with a gaea."

Max nodded slowly, trepidation heating his body.

"Son," Mr. Evans requested. "Are you sure about this?"

Sean's face flashed in our minds and I wasn't really sure who of us was the creator of that instinctive image.

"Yes," we answered in unison and watched Mr. Evans turn grim.

"I was afraid of that," he said. "I can't promise you that this will turn out okay. I'll try everything in my power to sort this out, but…"

"Thanks, Dad," Max said, gratefully heartfelt.

Mr. Evans nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable. I myself was a bit uncomfortable with the unusual span of emotions I had witnessed on Philip Evans face this morning. Emotions I hadn't thought he possessed.

With a rise from the chair, Mr. Evans became more recognizable as he announced lightly and almost cheerfully, "Let's have some breakfast. You must be starving!"


	52. FIFTY-TWO

_dootadoot - Thank you :D_

 _brokenbride - I would probably try to avoid the worst cliffhangers if I wouldn't be a frequent updater ;-) But since I am, you just have to put up with them... :-) There's a bit more to Mr. Evans than what meets the eye... Thank you for the feedback! :D_

* * *

 **FIFTY-TWO**

"Oh."

I turned around at the surprised exclamation, coming upon Max's mother. I briefly glanced at Max (who was standing at the kitchen island, making us some toast), the motion so automatic that I was barely aware of doing it, before saying, "Um, good morning," unintentionally making it sound more like a question than a greeting.

Empathy clawed at my heart as I watched the confusion on Mrs. Evans' face, the tentative glances she was shooting towards her husband, and the mild frown she was giving her son. She looked utterly lost - in her own home.

I watched her slowly pull herself together. But even though she squared her shoulders and worked a smile onto her lips, the manufactured smile was wobbly and her back was shaking. "Liz? What are you doing here?"

And I realized why her reaction resonated with something deep inside me.

 _She was me._

I felt myself tensing as I mimicked her stance, straightening my body. Even though I didn't really know the story behind how a human Diane ended up with an alien Philip, the woman who had mothered the man I loved had once been where I had been. The details were different, but the premise was the same.

The fear and insecurity I read in her eyes before she tried to hide it, were the same infusing me every time I was on alien territory. Just like the bizarre setting I was currently finding myself in; having breakfast with my hybrid boyfriend (I guess 'boyfriend' was an appropriate term for him right now, after everything) and his alien dad.

"She came with me," Max answered in my place and I felt his eyes touch the back of my head.

'Boyfriend' seemed like such a trivial phrase for what Max meant to me.

 _Ditto_ , Max replied in my mind and I actually jumped. His voice was just as clear as when we were touching. But the thing was - we weren't. He was several feet away from me.

I didn't have time to mull over this apparent development to our connection any further as I instead watched Mrs. Evans frown. "For breakfast?"

"Max and Liz had something they needed to discuss with me," Mr. Evans said and I turned my head to look at the man. His expression was - which seemed to be his default - neutral. I looked back at Mrs. Evans who was doing a very poor job at hiding her fear. Compared to her husband, she was everything _but_ neutral.

I frowned, her fear being contagious. Why was she so afraid? Was it of me? _For_ me? Because she had no reason to be afraid in her own house. And it was not like _I_ was a threat.

"Oh?" Mrs. Evans whispered and I couldn't take it anymore.

Her eyes widened in wary anticipation as I stepped up to her, put my arms around her shoulders and hugged her. She was stiff in my embrace, as was expected.

"It's good to see you again, Mrs. Evans," I said, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear me. Lowering my voice, I whispered, for her ears only, "I'm okay. Everything's okay."

My words seemed to relax her and her voice cracked a little as she answered in a normal speaking voice, "It's really nice to see you again too, Liz."

She returned my hug with a tight squeeze and I brushed back the maternal longing it brought out in me and let her out of my arms.

"And please, Liz," she said, her eyes glistening with warmth as I took a step back, "Call me Diane."

I smiled, my warm smile matching hers. "Of course."

Diane hitched her head towards the men in the kitchen. "You're not letting those two make you breakfast, are you?"

"Hey," Max protested. "There's nothing wrong with my breakfast-making abilities."

Diane winked at me, like we were sharing a private joke, and I couldn't help but smile. She was making an effort to blend in with the 'everyday'-setting of the kitchen, even though I could see the fear still remain in the wrinkles around her eyes and how her easiness didn't quite reach the atmosphere around her.

"You do make wonderful pancakes, Max," she admitted.

"That he does," I said, before Max could answer. Even though he was in my mind, I could tell that he was surprised by my forwardness and it was a surprise shared by his mother as she raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"He's cooked for you?"

I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. Damn my bodily reactions!

Max wasn't making it better by throwing me a grin, knowing exactly where my mind had gone. Knowing exactly what memory I would associate pancakes with for the rest of my life.

I felt three sets of eyes on me, making me drop my head to hide the emotions on my face. Max's father must know what we had been up to. Max had insinuated as much when he had told him that we had fully bonded. Catching the contemplative wrinkles crinkling Diane's forehead, I had a feeling that Max's mother was slowly putting two and two together.

If she hadn't, she probably did the second Max walked up to me, placed his hand on my hip, whispered "Breakfast is ready" close to my ear, and let his hand slide along the small of my back before he continued towards the table.

I must have looked as surprised as Max's mother. She looked like she was one step away from having her mouth drop open. I was surprised at how openly Max was touching me in front of his parents.

He really had thrown every caution to the wind. He really was serious about it being the two of us now. No more hiding.

"You want coffee, Di?" Mr. Evans asked when I turned to follow Max towards the table.

"Thank you," Diane answered.

I locked eyes with Max before walking around his back and resuming my seat next to him. Max leaned in and pecked my cheek. A gesture so light and ordinary that my soul vibrated.

"Do _you_ want coffee?" he asked.

I grimaced and suggested, "Tea? I haven't learned to drink coffee yet."

"We have tea," Diane answered. She seemed relieved to have something to do as she walked up to one of the cabinets and pulled out several boxes with different types of tea. "What's your poison? Green? Herbal? Black?"

"Green is fine," I replied politely. Max was watching me, even when I wasn't returning his gaze, his attention keeping the blush on my cheeks fresh.

"Phil, could you turn on the kettle for me?"

I turned away from the conversation between Max's parents and met the almost wistful expression on Max's face.

I smiled at him in mild confusion, still trying to get used to how to sort through his mind to find the thoughts that would answer my questions. "What?"

He returned my smile, shook his head in denial and put a light kiss on my lips. "Nothing."

It was turning out to be very convenient to have a mental connection when you wanted to keep some parts of your conversation secret from people outside of the bond. Like a secret - and silent - language. Something I was just starting to reap the benefits from, when Max continued our conversation telepathically.

 _What was that with my mom?_ His mind was tranquil, curiously inquisitive.

I frowned. _What do you mean?_

He glanced at my lips before he grabbed my hand under the table and gently squeezed it. _You had a moment._

I bit my lower lip and brought my free hand down to our laced hands to run my fingers up his knuckles, cradling his much larger hand in both of mine. _She was scared for me. Wasn't she?_

Max dropped his eyes to my hands. _There are some things she doesn't trust about my father._ Max looked up at me seriously, his eyes piercing through me. _Like whenever it comes to him following the law. She knows that he is very law-abiding and she also knows that you are not supposed to be here. With me._

 _Which, as far as she knows, could only mean that I was either your prisoner or being played,_ I filled in.

He nodded and we both startled as Mr. Evans broke through our bubble. "Something I should know about?"

In unison, we whipped our heads towards Mr. Evans, who was now seated opposite us with his wife next to him.

I frowned, feeling like I had temporarily lost the control over the situation. Like I had missed something.

There was a steaming white cup of hot water in front of me, the green paper label dangling off the edge informing me that it was 'Green Dream Tea'.

I looked away from the tea and up at the parents. _How long had they been sitting there?_

Mr. Evans chuckled good-naturedly and waved our astonishment away with his hand. "Don't worry. I know how one can get caught up in each other's eyes."

Even though my opinions about Max's father were slowly changing, that statement still sounded weird coming out of his mouth. I was calmed by Max's hand giving mine a squeeze.

The confusion was written all over Diane's face as I glanced over at her, and her bottom lip was trembling as she stuttered - after a second of silence, "You bonded with her?"

I looked at Max, felt his need for acceptance vibrate through our connection, and was humbled by the deep sense of confidence. The confidence stemming from the fact that Max was behind this bond between us 100%.

"Yes," he answered slowly and I looked back at Diane to catch all the color drain from her face.

I swallowed back my nervousness. Her reactions kept on rocking the false security I had built up since bonding with Max. She kept rocking the beliefs that everything was going to be okay now - now that we had completely bonded.

Mr. Evans pointed at Max with the corner of his toast, saying simply around a mouthful, "Max bonded with Liz when he healed her burns a couple of weeks ago."

Diane didn't look the least surprised about that revelation, her blue eyes instead searching both my face and Max's for more information. "I knew about that, Philip." Her voice was slow, dazed.

I felt both surprised and not about the fact that no one seemed to have actively told Diane about the healing until now. Because it actually seemed like everyone in the Evans' family had known about Max bonding with me anyway.

Did they really think that Diane wouldn't have figured it out - with all the punishments her son was enduring lately - that something serious was going on? That there was something more than Max just crossing some lines? Obviously she had known this about her son, even though no one had included her in the 'secrets'.

I found it odd that Diane had not been invited into that discussion. Was it because she was human? Did humans never really become an integral part of the community?

Max squeezed my hand, bringing me back from my thoughts to the here and now, alerting me to the fact that he was listening in, just not engaging.

I was taken aback when Max's mother turned to me, rather than her son, and said with deep sorrow in her voice, "Sweetie, do you know what you're getting yourself into?"

I was momentarily stunned to be addressed, but quickly recuperated and nodded slowly. "Yes."

"She's already in this, Mom," Max said, a sharpness to his voice. Sharpened by the bitter truth of my 'destiny'.

Diane slowly shook her head. "Not with you, Max." Her voice dropped lower, turned even sadder, making me shiver. "She's not in this with you, Max."

Love and concern for her flowed through the connection from Max and he said gently, "It's going to be okay, Mom. Everything will be fine."

She started shaking her head, a tear forming at the edge of her bottom eyelid and I felt my world slowly dissolve around me.

"My beautiful baby boy," she mumbled, stricken, and I swallowed, resisting the temptation to cry myself as I looked at Max's profile for guidance.

I could tell that the whole situation was really hard on Max. He felt like he was losing control. He had a fierce urge to convince his mother that he and I were meant to be. That _together_ we could do this. But he was also feeling lost in the worry about his mother's sorrow, not wanting to cause her pain. Knowing that he had already put her through quite a lot of grief over these past weeks.

"Calm down, Diane," Mr. Evans said and took a sip from his cup of coffee. I noticed the flash of concern in Max's father's eyes as he glanced towards his wife. It was gone so quickly that I was sure no one but me had seen it.

Obviously, Diane had missed it.

Anger flashed across her face, before she turned to face her husband. "Don't tell me to calm down, Philip."

I bit the inside of my cheek at the increasing tension in the room, feeling more and more like an intruder in this domestic environment. And a little bit more scared than one would be when faced with a regular family quarrel. Because I had no idea if this was going to stay civil or turn…alien.

"Maybe you should _care_ a bit more," Diane continued and her cheeks were flushed with crimson red as she pointed towards Max, her eyes remaining on Mr. Evans' neutral face. "That's our son over there. And by bonding with this girl-" she pointed to me and I swallowed in the heat from her assigned scrutiny as her eyes flickered to my face, suddenly feeling small and a lot younger than my 16 years, "-you know as well as I do that he might have just signed his own death warrant." She gestured with her whole hand in my direction. "And _hers_."

Mr. Evans looked perfectly collected as he took another bite of his toast before replying, "And you don't think I've tried to stop this?" I noticed a faint tremble in the hand that was holding the toast.

Why was he intent on keeping his mask of indifference on? Even though he had admitted to having feelings before - when speaking only to Max and I. Even though Diane must know that he was not the cold-hearted person he set out to be.

He looked up at Max and I, and added, in a clean statement, "He's in love." Like that would explain everything.

In a way, I had to admit, it did.

I looked back at Diane, holding my breath for her reaction. I felt like I was watching a tennis match, almost anticipating someone's racket to eventually impact with an explosive ball.

Maybe this is what Max meant when he had accused the pure aliens from lacking emotions. They didn't lack emotions by definition; they couldn't express them properly. They were seriously emotionally handicapped.

My adrenaline was pumping through my veins, while emphatic sadness for Max's mother was making my eyes sting with unshed tears. To top it off, Max's discomfort through the connection was enough to drown me. He hated seeing his mother like this. Hated how his father was handling the situation. Hated how his father wasn't comforting his wife or barely acknowledging her very real fear.

 _Go to her,_ my mind told him.

Max looked at me, his eye twitching in the beginning of a frown, and his reluctance to leave my side was deafening.

 _I'll be fine,_ I tried to assure him and slowly disentangled our fingers. _She needs you more._

He tightened his fingers around mine, to pause the unbraiding I had started, and I waited for him as he looked over at his mother, the fierce protection for her burning through my chest. The next breath got lost in my throat at the shared emotion.

Max finished what I had started - separating our hands - and stood up. His fingers brushed across the top of my shoulder blades in a comfortable muted gesture before he left my side.

Walking up to his mom, he said, "Mom-"

Diane looked up, something in her eyes interrupting him. Fear tumbled through me and my fists tightened in my lap in response.

Max's fear. In response to his mother's behavior.

I had come to really really hate Max's fear. His fear was worse than mine, in a way, because when Max was scared it was usually much more serious.

I had come to realize the guy didn't scare very easily. When he did, it was never a good sign.

"How do you know that you love her?" Diane asked, her voice empty.

I was holding my breath, waiting for Max's answer, experiencing his surprise at her blunt question.

Max slowly crouched down next to her chair, bringing their heads more to the same level while Diane twisted her upper body to the side to face her son. With clarity and undeniable certainty, Max answered, "Because nothing makes sense without her."

I watched as Diane started crying. I watched her head dip forward and her shoulders shake in heartbreaking sobs. I watched how she first pressed a kiss to Max's cheek before pulling him into a tight hug.

I felt her tears hit Max's shoulder, wet the exposed skin of his neck above the neckline of his shirt. I felt her arms around him and how the emotional warmth of the embrace spread through him.

I felt the love. That unconditional, deep, maternal love.

The pressure over my chest startled me, the constriction of my throat alarmed me.

I shot up from the chair, my hands suddenly trembling and I felt like crying. Breaking apart just like Diane was currently doing.

I was aware of Mr. Evans' eyes on me as I stumbled and hit my hip against the table while trying to get my legs to work.

 _Air. I need air._

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max start to pull away from his mother, his anxiety about the sudden change to my bodily functions ripping through me and adding to the anxiety building in me.

He barely got out a "Liz?" before I waved my hands in his direction, trying to catch oxygen and pull in a breath, "It's fine." I was breathless, gasping. "I just need some air."

The tears I was holding back were burning my eyes and I saw Diane look at me, her face red and blotchy from the tears I was trying to suppress in myself.

 _No,_ I thought. _Don't get up._

I really didn't want my spectacle to interrupt the moment between Max and his mother. Diane obviously needed her son right now.

But even against my mental objections, Max was obviously paying more attention to my panic than my requested politeness and he was already getting to his feet, gently and cautiously removing his mother's arms from around him while his eyes were transfixed on me.

"Stay with her," I ordered, pressing a hand to my burning chest and moving towards the doorway that would take me out of the kitchen. "I'll be fine."

 _No!_ Max objected sharply in my head and I cringed.

To my confusion, while trying to get my legs to work, I watched Mr. Evans rise from his seat and bark an order at Max - who was crossing the floor with the single-minded intention of reaching me, "Stay with your mother, Max."

"Dad…" Max warned in return and grabbed my hand.

The physical connection between us made the restrained tears spill over and flow down my cheeks. Max looked at me in barely contained terror and I could feel him searching through my mind for answers in a way he had never done before.

His concern made him lose his gentleness and my body shook with pained shock as his frantic search through my mind almost imitated that of Sean - edging forcefully into my head.

Then Mr. Evans stepped in between us, gave Max a look I missed and said with such confidence and warmth that even _I_ believed him, "I'll take care of her. You talk to your mother."

Max's eyes flickered to mine in hesitation, the distraction automatically making him ease off on his rummage through my thoughts and feelings. Instead, I could clearly pick up on all the objections he was mentally preparing to give his father on why Max shouldn't hand me over to his father.

But there was also the regretful image of his mother. He was torn. He was not just being torn, but shredded between two people he loved.

I squeezed his hand and managed to pull a deep breath in, a sob hitching at the top of that breath, making his concern tenfold in my mind.

I silently shook my head at him, communicating to not worry, and whispered weakly, "I just need some air."

He was finally realizing the distance that I craved. Understanding that the way to make me feel better was for me to go outside.

Maybe he was even seeing something in me that I myself wasn't understanding yet, because he nodded and whispered, "I love you," before letting go of my hand.

"Let's get you outside," Mr. Evans suggested, his voice gentle and soft.

He didn't touch me, rather took a step away from me to give me space, and gestured towards the doorway with his hand.

With my emotions crumbling around me, I followed Max's alien father towards the front door, Max's feelings for me exploding in every cell of my body and mind.


	53. FIFTY-THREE

_loveisalifetimeproject - Thank you! :-D_

 _brokenbride - Thank you! :D_

* * *

 **FIFTY-THREE**

Outside of the front door, I put my back against the white wall while my legs gave way to my weight. My grief could no longer be contained, the sobs ripped through the still early morning, as I pulled my legs up to my chest and buried my head against my arms I had wrapped around my knees.

I found myself panting, my chest and lungs hurt with the shallow breaths, and I was starting to feel dizzy. I dug my nails into my palms and focused on controlling the screams that were building in my mind.

"I can help you breathe," a quiet voice said beside me and I was surprised that I had already forgotten that he was there. I had forgotten that he had followed me outside.

Not seeing any other option, the lack of control in the situation frightening me, I lifted my head slightly to give him a nod.

His response was immediate. He placed a hand on my shoulder and within a fraction of a second I felt the pressure easing off my chest.

I took a deep greedy breath, the relief only making my tears flow faster.

I heard his clothes shuffle next to me as he sat down on the ground on my right side, keeping a polite distance between our bodies.

"She was a wonderful woman," Mr. Evans said quietly and my sobs were shocked into abrupt stillness in favor of being able to hear what he said.

As he continued talking, I came to understand that he had figured something out that I still hadn't. That the reason behind my panic attack was the grief over the loss of my mother. Brought forward by the indirect maternal love between Max and his mother, which I had experienced indirectly through the connection.

"Very full of life. Always close to breaking into a smile. Very caring."

My bottom lip trembled with the tears that needed to be shed, with the sobs that needed to break. But I was pausing it all in anticipation of what he would say.

I could hear a smile in his voice as he said, "Especially about you. From the moment she got pregnant with you, I knew that she would never succumb to Steven. She would never accept being a part of our world. She would do everything in her power to keep you as far away from that world that she possibly could. Even if it meant risking her own life."

I sniffled and looked to my side at him, wiping my face with my palms. "Why are you telling me this?"

There was real compassion in his eyes. "Because I know how overwhelming connections can be. Especially if you are sharing thoughts with my son. He's-" Mr. Evans shook his head and looked away from me, staring off into the darkness of the early December morning, "Max is very emotional. I've watched him for his whole life, and on some occasions I have shared his feelings through healing connections, and I know that his emotions are strong. Especially about things he cares about. Like his family-," Mr. Evans looked at me with a wistful expression on his face, "-and you."

I kept silent, not really knowing what to say to that.

"I had a feeling that his relationship to his mother would leak into your grief about your own."

I closed my eyes against the fresh tears and turned my head away, pulling my knees further up into my stomach, wanting the pain to stop, wanting the grief to ease.

"And with everything that's happened, I imagined you haven't really had the chance to properly grieve your mother."

It was like I was sitting next to a completely different person. This was not the man I had feared. The man I had hated. The man I had wanted to hurt for hurting Max. How could he be so different? How could he be so kind right now?

Because my gut feeling was telling me that he was being sincere. This wasn't some charade he was putting on in order to later make fun of me or use it to his advantage in some way. I was very certain that Max would never have let me leave with his father if he even for a second thought I was in danger.

I shook my head slowly in response to his assumption. I really hadn't allowed myself to properly grieve my mother. I had even welcomed the distractions to avoid feeling that pain.

The distractions had been plentiful. The research on the internet to figure out who within the small town of Roswell was alien, the arguments with Max about the connection, the midnight conversations. I had even almost welcomed the complications concerning Sean. That's how much I had wanted to avoid thinking and _feeling_. Because I was afraid that once I broke, I wouldn't be able to pick myself up again.

Which, in my current threatened situation, would have made me as vulnerable as a baby.

"I presume that Max has told you about her death," Mr. Evans asked, a tad of caution in his voice.

I sniffled, my whole body turning cold, and my voice betrayed the coldness as I whispered, "She did not die in that fire. She was killed."

I looked over at him and caught his nod while he took a deep breath. "That's correct."

I swallowed and decided to take a risk. Maybe this was my chance to get some answers. Answers that Max had avoided to provide me with. "Why?"

There was a natural and very human hesitation on his face before he supplied slowly, "She was going crazy."

My heart stopped and I almost scowled at him as I defensively bit out, "What?"

Of course my mother hadn't been going crazy! There had been nothing pointing to that. That was ridiculous.

The heat of my anger was quickly drying the tears on my cheeks, making my whole body tense.

"She had plans," Mr. Evans continued and for some reason I felt chills run down my spine. "The Sergeant had witnessed those plans the last three or four times he had connected with her."

The panic was creeping back into my body as I stared at him, afraid to blink. My breath was halted in my chest as I whispered, "What plans?"

Mr. Evans seemed to hesitate, before he looked straight at me, honesty displayed in his eyes. "She was going to kill herself."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. "But not before she had killed your father and you."

The world froze, the nightly sounds from outside and the hushed conversations from inside the house seeping through the door left ajar, muted. My pulse was throbbing in my head as my whole body got freezing cold.

My body was experiencing shock. A shock so pronounced that I failed to hear Max's call for my attention through the bond and failed to feel his panicked concern.

I pressed my back into the wall, pushing myself to my feet, felt the ground sway underneath my feet, as I pointed at him in confused anger.

"No," I breathed.

His lips were moving, his arms were raised in front of him, like he wanted to give me a hug, to offer comfort.

But I couldn't hear his words over the roaring sound of blood in my ears, and I stumbled backwards to avoid his touch.

My mother hadn't been insane. Couldn't have been. This was some kind of excuse they had come up with. An excuse to kill off my mom. Making it sound like they had _saved_ my dad and me from my own mother.

Were they expecting gratitude? When I knew that they had only wanted to save me to save themselves? To keep the gaea-line intact.

New tears were building in my eyes as a short laugh brushed my trembling lips. "That's ridiculous. You're lying."

Mr. Evans slowly shook his head and I was watching him so intently that I barely noticed Max flying through the door, throwing his father a murderous glare, before slowing down in his approach towards me.

I shook my head, wanting them all to go away, while I took another step back, pressed the fingertips to my downward facing forehead and squeezed my eyes tightly shut.

I couldn't take anymore. This was it. I wanted to wake up now. I wanted this long terrifying nightmare to end.

I jumped as Max's hand carefully touched my arm. Without opening my eyes, I turned towards his touch and trusted him to catch me when I fell.

He gathered me up in his embrace, placing tender kisses against my hair with nonsensical words of comfort whispering in my ear as he pressed me tightly against his body, gently rocking me. I was dimly aware of the tension in my body even in his arms, how I couldn't even cry anymore. In the absence of my tears my body trembled and chilled and I desperately tried to get a hold of Max's feelings and thoughts, just so that I could anchor my body to something.

"Let's go inside, into the warmth," he mumbled into my hair and the grip I had on his shirt tightened while his grip on my body loosened.

With his movement, my body wanted to sink to the ground. I hadn't gotten much sleep in the past 24 hours and, with the shock my body was going through, all my energy was leaving me when Max stopped supporting my body.

Taking note of the change in my body as my stiffness turned into docility, Max bent down and lifted me into his arms, his arms warm in the hook of my knees and around my back as I curled up against his chest and pressed my nose into the curve of his neck.

 _She was not insane. She was not insane._

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut against the repetitive thought.

"Is she okay?" I heard Isabel ask while light crept through my closed eyelids. Max had moved us inside and the rocking in my body revealed how brisk his walk was.

"Dad decided to answer her questions," Max bit out, his voice tense and burning with anger.

"About what?"

Max's voice was clipped. "Her mother."

"Her death?" I could hear the remorse in Isabel's horrified voice and I felt Max nod his head, his chin bumping slightly against the top of my head with the affirmation.

I was shivering by the time he carried me up the stairs and my arms tightened around his neck as the arm he had around my back moved slightly to open a door.

I refused to open my eyes. I could almost feel the depression that I had been trying to keep at bay sneaking onto me, creeping around the edges of my consciousness. And I wanted to sink right into it.

I didn't want to do this anymore. I didn't want to feel all of this anymore. I didn't want to have bombs of information explode on me every turn I made. Was there no end to the revelations? To the lies? To the secrets?

My chest was aching from the intense longing to go back to how things used to be. Before I had gone to that Halloween party. When my mother had still been alive. When my dad had still been a functioning human. When I had been able to share every detail of my life with Maria. When I had been happy. When my life had been uncomplicated.

But even I knew that version of my life had been a lie. Because while I had been leading a seemingly normal teenage life, I had - on regular intervals - been visited by aliens who had judged the development of a special gene in my DNA, my mom had been used and abused by extraterrestrials since she herself was a teenager and my dad had been living a big lie.

How much of mom's double life had my dad really been aware of?

My arms fell away limply from Max's neck as he sat me down on a soft surface. I slowly opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. I was in Max's room, seated on his bed. I caught Max's worried eyes on my face before he reached beside me and pulled at the blanket at the end of the bed, to wrap it around my shoulders.

I felt nothing as I watched his face while he focused on covering me up properly in the blanket.

"Was she insane?" I whispered and watched him freeze before he slowly met my empty eyes.

He was censoring the input from his mind into the connection. He had been doing that ever since my break-down. Ever since he had realized that his emotions were exacerbating my 'condition'.

He hesitated and I curled my cold fingers into the top of my thighs in frustration as I said with more force, "Tell me."

"It doesn't matter," Max said with sadness.

"It does to me."

His right hand was holding so tightly to the front of the blanket, keeping the blanket locked around my body, that his knuckles were turning white.

"You don't need to know this. It won't change anything."

Of course it would. "I want to know the truth." I barely recognized my own voice. It sounded foreign. Cold. Distant. Factual.

I knew that it was unnerving him. I could see it on his face. Was he afraid what would happen if he disclosed all the details? Was he afraid that I would feel better or be irreparably damaged by it?

"I'm afraid I'm losing you," he whispered. In sharp contrast to the empty glaze in my own eyes, his gaze - transfixed on my face - was a bottomless sea of strong emotions.

I closed my eyes slowly against his fear. I couldn't deal with it. I couldn't calm his insecurities right now. I couldn't make him feel better when I couldn't even make myself feel better.

The truth was slowly sinking in and starting to make sense.

My eyes still closed, I breathed, "Will I go crazy too?"

"Not as long as I have a say in it," Max said quietly and I opened my eyes to look at him, feeling the hint of warmth touching my shivering heart.

"If I were with Sean…" I swallowed, the action rasping uncomfortably against my dry throat, "If the community, the council, the aliens, whatever - if they force us apart and still put me with Sean, will I eventually go insane?"

He swallowed, clearly uncomfortable, but not looking away for a second. "You might."

"Because of the mind control? The memory wipes?"

Max nodded. "I mentioned before that your mother was strong. Unfortunately, the more you struggle - the more you resist the hijacking of your brain - the more extensive the damage to your mind will be. Usually - at least with previous gaeas - this has never been a real issue. The gaeas have always reached old age, and become unusable as a consequence of that old age, before there's been irreparable damage to their minds."

"But if you resist, you'll most likely cause damage to your brain?" I asked faintly in clarification.

I had resisted too. I knew this is where my headaches came from. I also knew that my resistance had never been voluntary. I had never consciously decided to push against Sean's invasion into my mind. My body had made that decision for me.

Which meant that - were I to get together with Sean - I would most likely eventually suffer great brain damage as time passed.

I dimly saw him nod his head and the words hurt my mouth as I whispered, "She really planned to kill us? Are you sure?"

"I didn't see into her mind that night," Max admitted, almost regretfully. Like he wanted to have been able to give me a definite answer. "But I saw how she was acting."

"How was she acting?" I breathed.

Max used his other hand to pull the blanket even tighter around me as a shudder went through my entire body. I could feel his hesitancy, his caution towards me. I could read that he wanted to put his arms around me and use both his natural body heat and some alien magic to heat me up. But he was keeping his distance. Afraid of what an added closeness from his side could do to me in this state.

"She was being erratic," he answered slowly. "She was upset - like I told you before - about you. Worried about your safety and intent on making it impossible for us to use you."

"You told me this already," I said under my breath. I felt nothing. My chest felt hollowed out. My heart was beating faintly in the background, my chest taking light unnoticeable breaths.

"I only told you the first part," Max continued, letting go of the front of the blanket - letting it fall open slightly when being released - and instead brushed his palms up my arms, heating me through the blanket.

I trembled and bit my lip against the tears as his touch called at my emotions for the first time since Mr. Evans had dropped that insanity-bomb on me.

"After she said that she would sacrifice herself, letting the Sergeant use her anyway he wanted or needed, Sean started laughing at her. When he did that, it was like something broke inside of her."

A full round tear rolled down my chilled cheek.

"She fell to her knees-" Max stopped talking, a visible tremble running through him at the memory. "The sounds coming out of her mouth." He swallowed and took a deep breath, before continuing, "It was torture. She was… It was like listening to an animal being tortured."

"No…" I whispered, painfully hanging on to his every word.

"And amongst the screams, the crying, she said that you were safer if you were dead. That you," he inhaled sharply, like my mom had actually threatened me (which, I guess, in a way she had), "were better off dead. To her, there was no other option. She had a plan and, even though it was hard to follow her, she was actually planning to make you ingest bleach. I'm not sure how, I'm not sure even _she_ had that figured out, but she was intent on doing it as soon as you and your dad had returned from camp."

I stared at him. "So Sean killed her."

My impassive statement sent chills down Max's spine. I could feel them trickling down my own. But there was something else there. Something that I hadn't had the energy to decipher before.

Guilt.

Max was trying to block the bulk of his feelings from me, but shame was seeping through like poison.

And it made my body come alive with fear. I moved underneath the blanket, pulling back slightly from his hands. "What?"

His eyes were dark and filled with remorse as he looked straight at me.

"What did you do?" I whispered, the fear making my voice tremble. I inhaled sharply as the thought hit me, " _You_ killed her? Sean didn't?"

Panic flashed in his eyes and he took a hold of my escaping body. His voice was adamant as he stated, "No. I've never killed anyone."

 _Then what?_ I asked, not very calmed by his reassurance.

"I let him, okay?" Max broke, a nauseous look on his face and he couldn't keep his eyes on me any longer. "I didn't stop him. I knew what had been discussed between the Sergeant and Sean just before we met up with your mother. I knew that the Sergeant had told Sean to dispose of her if she showed any evidence of posing any danger to Sean's gaea. I _knew_ seconds before he connected with her, that he had made the decision, that he was going to kill her. But I didn't stop him."

I swallowed back the acid in my throat. I wanted to throw up. I asked, "Why?" even though I knew him well enough by now that I could've guessed his answer.

Max looked up at me, a sheen of tears in his eyes that made my breath hitch, "Because she was planning to kill you." He shook his head as he brushed a hand up to my face and cradled my cheek.

I kept completely still, trying to process.

He shook his head, looking at me with such love amongst his guilt and sadness that my heart was thawing even when my mind was resisting it on mere principle, as he added, "I needed you to be safe."

 _Even if it meant that your mother had to die,_ he filled in sadly, his voice soft and fleeting in my head. But it had the effect of slicing through the wall around my emotions, making me feel everything at once.

I started sobbing in the confusing mix of emotions that was my existence. But Max's issues with that incident were overshadowing my own conflicting thoughts and feelings. The guilt that he had carried around with him ever since my mother had been murdered. That he had, in some way, been an accomplice to my mother's murder. Just to protect me.

I knew that it was impossible for him to have stopped it, even though he thought he could have. Even if he _had_ intervened, the 'problem' that was my mother would have been resolved later anyway. Max wouldn't have been able to prevent it forever.

Max's only crime was that he had happened to have been present at the crime scene and that he loved me too much. Which no one could blame him for.

He heard all of this through the connection, but I still had to literally tell him to, "Please, hold me," before he reluctantly realized that he was forgiven - never having been accused to start with.

He climbed onto the bed, sat down behind me and pulled me - blanket and all - up against his chest, pressing his nose into my neck.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he whispered against my gradually increasing pulse vibrating against his lips where he put a soft kiss against my jugular.

I sniveled and nodded, pressing further back into him. Needing him more than ever.


	54. FIFTY-FOUR

_brokenbride - And more information is to come. Thank you for the feedback!_

* * *

 **FIFTY-FOUR**

I was alone in Max's room. He had left just a minute ago - after tucking me into his bed - to 'make some arrangements'. I knew from eavesdropping on his inner monologue that those 'arrangements' included fixing cover stories that kept my dad's suspicions about my absence under control and meant that neither Max nor I had to show up at school today.

Max had been very firm on the point of us skipping school, the reasons including 1) Sean would be there, 2) both of us had barely gotten any sleep, which was mostly dangerous to me since I wouldn't be able to put up any resistance to Sean, 3) Maria was asking too many questions and Max had understood from a first-hand view into my brain that I was having more and more trouble dodging the truth around her, and 4) Max wanted to give me as much information as possible about the members at the meeting tonight. To prepare me.

He hadn't spoken reason number 5 out loud, but it had rung clearly in my head. He wanted to spend as much time alone with me as possible before our verdict.

Now, my body shivering in the absence of Max, I slowly took in my surroundings. I had been in Max's room twice (at least that I could remember). The first time I had been in excruciating pain and Max had healed me after my burns had started to reappear. The second time I had been searching for Max while infused with an inhuman coldness, knowing that Max had been/was being abused in some way.

Neither of those events had given me the opportunity to actually look at his room. I finally had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of Max's personal life. The part of his life that was very similar to that of a regular adolescent boy.

The collection of guitars by the large windows. The black desk, which gave an empty impression due to its organized piles of pens and stacks of paper. The single wooden ruler on the desk was neatly lined up with the table surface.

The bookcase next to the window was filled to the brim with books. Even though some books had been forcibly shelved on top of others, it didn't give a messy appearance. There was organization in the mess.

I shook my head in thought. Max Evans exercised control in all things.

I would have probably found this amusing, if I'd have the energy to.

My eyelids were growing heavier as Max's bed linen trapped my body heat and started to warm my shivering body. I felt safe here, surrounded by the smell of Max. There were so many aspects of that feeling that were laughable. I never would have imagined, going back just a couple of days, that I would feel safe in Mr. Evans' house. Especially not buried underneath Max's covers, listening to the faint sounds Max's father was making in the kitchen downstairs.

My mind was processing everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, making me grow gradually weaker as sleep crawled closer. Within minutes, I was asleep.

I was startled into wakefulness, not having realized that I had fallen asleep, by the familiar heavy clicking sound of a door being locked.

My heart was, by learned habit, beating quickly in my chest as my eyes sprung open at the sound, only to find Max over by the door, looking at me apologetically, having realized that he had just woken me up.

My heart immediately calmed. I hadn't realized how tense my body had been until it relaxed in the tracing of him crossing the room to reach the bed.

I stifled a yawn and mumbled, "Hey."

"You're exhausted," he said regretfully. Like it was his fault.

I looked at the paleness of his face, at the darkness under his eyes, and the slight hunch to his strong shoulders. His own weariness was pulsating off him.

"I guess that makes two of us," I replied, tendrils of sleep making my voice drowsy.

How much sleep had _he_ gotten?

I watched the distracted soft smile on his lips as he stopped next to the bed.

The thought made me worried and I tried to recollect if he had gotten any sleep at all last night. I was pretty sure he had fallen asleep with me after...

I blushed at the memory and my heart missed a beat as I caught his eyes, knowing that he was - as usual - silently hitchhiking on my train of thought. With an enticing half-smile he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it - along with the T-shirt underneath - over his head, exposing his well-detailed chest to my greedy eyes.

He continued undressing in front of me as my thoughts - mixed with distracting thoughts about his body, pleasure and sex - continued cataloguing his sleeping habits.

He had been awake, talking with Isabel on the phone, just a few hours after we had fallen asleep. I wasn't sure if he had actually gone to sleep after our... I bit my lip and traced my eyes down his naked - save for those black boxers - body of his, as I finished my thought with 'second time'.

Max reached forward and pulled the duvet back, providing him with an opening to slip underneath the covers with me. He curled his arms around me, pressed my front up against his, as he positioned us both on our sides, and pressed a kiss to my forehead while he draped his right leg over my thigh and wrapped himself tightly around me.

"And while I was asleep on the way over here, you were driving," I finished, using my sleepy voice as my body sighed in happiness at the feel of his warm skin all around me.

"I don't have time for sleep," he whispered back, his dark eyes heating me more than the bed linen ever stood a chance to.

I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling a scolding that would make my mother proud coming on, "You need your rest just as much as I do."

He shook his head slightly and I looked at those full lips of his, already craving his kissing. How long had it been since he had kissed me last? An hour? Thirty minutes?

My soul was going crazy with abstinence.

In response, he brought his hand up between us and slowly fluttered his thumb over my lips. I pressed my lips against his touch, kissing his finger, and he said, "I couldn't leave you unwatched. It wouldn't be safe."

"Your safety is just as important to me as mine is to you," I said seriously and added with a touch of sadness, "And we need all the energy we can get at that meeting tonight."

He nodded quietly, my observation making his mind turn strategic, plans running through his mind. They continued to do so even when he reached down across my stomach and tugged on the bottom of my sweater.

I frowned at him in confusing incredulous curiosity, making the corner of my mouth twitch as I looked at him for answers. But even though his eyes were burning into mine, his gaze very present, his mind was planning what to say tonight. How to plead our case.

He filled me with awe. Even when he pulled my sweater over my head and innocently reached for the clasp of my bra between my shoulder blades, I could hear nothing but political musings in his head.

With the bra falling off my breasts, I smiled at him in perplexed amusement. "How are you doing that?"

His lips formed in a teasing smile and he answered all-knowingly, "Bras are not really rocket science, Liz."

I rolled my eyes, mumbling, "Silly," knowing that he knew exactly what I was referring to. And it was certainly not the art of removing a girl's bra.

I opened my mouth to ask again when his large hand brushed down my front, over the hard bump of my collarbone, over the soft hill of my breast and down the flat expanse of my stomach. My words turned into a gasp of deep desire, which turned into a yelp of yearning as he squeezed his hand into the back of my pants, folding his palm around the curve of my ass, against the lacy material of my underwear.

In a desperate attempt to prove to him that I was not completely ruled by my desire for him, nor that I was a mindless drone under his control, I fought to keep the conversation going, "How are you able to think about the meeting while at the same time I can _feel_ you concentrating on _me_?"

He leaned forward and slowly brushed his lips over mine, moving from the bottom to the top in one very fluttering motion. I moaned, my face chasing after his as he pulled away.

I groaned in disappointment. I just had to admit it. I _was_ a mindless drone.

Max laughed softly at this and squeezed my behind, simultaneously pressing our nether bodies even closer together.

"We call it 'diversion'," Max replied and started moving his hand from my burning behind to the front. My body tensed in breathless anticipation.

 _I wouldn't call it that_ , I thought distractedly as he brushed teasing fingers over the top of my sex before pulling his hand upwards to work on opening the button to my jeans.

His quiet laughter was like a balm to my soul as he looked into my eyes and directed my attention back to the conversation. I was still acutely aware of what his hand was doing, unbuttoning my jeans, but if I focused really hard I believe I could understand what he was saying.

Maybe.

"It's a technique where you hide what you're really thinking behind another line of thinking. To confuse mind readers."

Max pulled down my zipper.

"Mind readers?" I asked slowly. "Is that the same as mind controllers?" I frowned, struggling with all the terms. "Or is that mind wipers?"

Max nodded. "Mind reading is the advanced stage of mind control. Sean and his father - and the ones that generally are good at manipulating minds - all have the _potential_ to read minds. With training."

Of course. This was not a surprise. Just a clarification. Max had, after all, told me as much when he had informed me that he had kept some information from me so that Sean wouldn't be able to access it if he connected with me.

"But your father couldn't read my mind earlier," I frowned. "Because you and I were bonded..? Is that why Sean hasn't been able to read my thoughts yet?" Before Max could answer in the small pause that followed, I added in confusion, "If he can't access my mind to read it, how can he access it to control it?"

Max's hand was paused on my zipper and I could hear the amusement in his mind. Being amused by me - with all my questions.

"That's because it takes practice to access different parts of someone's brain. Those who have mental abilities usually learn how to control the motor cortex of the brain first. The part of your brain that controls voluntary movement. Next they learn to control the temporal lobe, which is involved in the making and storage of memories. Which gives them the power to tamper with someone's memory."

I was trying to control my breathing as I was starting to get a bit worked up by the heat from Max's hand resting on the front of my pants. I struggled to formulate, "I assume that the process of thinking is operated by yet another part of the brain...?"

Max nodded. "Frontal lobe. This is the largest part of your brain that is used to reason, plan... It's where your personality is formed."

I could feel that specific lobe of my brain working hard as I concluded, "And even a mind wiper has to have a connection to be able to access that part of the brain."

"Yes, usually," Max replied. "Which is why I - even though I'm not even close to being as good at mind abilities as Sean or even my father - can access your frontal lobe."

I snorted and shook my head. "Access my frontal lobe." I leaned forward and brushed a light kiss on his lips. "You have such a dirty mind, Max."

He rolled his eyes at my lame joke, but there was a loving grin on his lips and relief was simmering through the connection. Relief that I was able to relax and joke; a sign that I was coming back from the shock of finding out that my mom had turned insane.

"I didn't know that the bond could protect against intrusion into the brain," Max said, his face turning serious. "Not until dad tried to access your mind."

"Which is why you were worried that Sean might gain access to my thinking, seeing that he might be getting better at using his gifts and the fact that the bond was weakened while being paused."

Max nodded slowly, before there was a flicker of something warm and enticing on his face.

"Speaking of bonding..." Max's fingers brushed up the front of my sex and I gasped loudly before I reached down and grabbed his strong wrist with my hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked breathlessly.

He smirked at me and answered, "Removing your clothes."

I rolled my eyes. "Um...yeah. Obviously." Then hitched my chin towards the door. "But your parents are still downstairs. I'm in _your room_..." I lowered my voice in an indignant hiss, "We can't have sex here!"

He laughed and, to my disappointment, pulled his hand out of my jeans. He closed the small inch-long distance between our mouths and sealed his laughter with a kiss.

My body relaxed as I melted into his kiss. _Finally._

He pulled back much too soon, reaching down with both his hands now, folding them around my hips, inside my jeans but outside of my underwear, and mumbled, "Who said anything about sex? I'm just helping you out of these clothes, Ms. Parker."

My suspicion was amused and filled with overwhelming love for this boy. He was adorable. Who knew that Max Evans could be like this? Who knew that behind that arrogant mask of playboy-persona was a strong man capable of such playfulness, care and love?

"Why?" I asked naturally, really wanting to hear his excuse for getting us both naked in a bed if his intentions were all pure.

He gave me another wink, before he disappeared under the covers. Not being able to see him, knowing that he was under the covers with my nudity, fueled something exciting and enticing inside of me. The anticipation of everything he could do to me caused my body to react with rather intense pleasure only with his act of pulling the jeans down my legs.

Just as my body relaxed in the knowledge (and disappointment, to be honest) that he wouldn't do anything more than remove my pants, he pressed a soft kiss to the front of my underwear.

My breath got lodged in my throat as my hips rocked forward and my hands automatically buried themselves in his hair under the covers.

But he left it at that, crawling up from beneath the duvet, my hands still in his hair, and pressed our lips together. He slowly melted our mouths together, pulling at my lips, and worked to coax one sigh after another out of me while our bodies heated against each other.

Our breathing fairly compromised, he pulled back and smiled at me. There was a beautiful blush on his cheeks and his eyes were shining with life and happiness.

I shook my head at him, threading my fingers through his bangs and stated, "You're a tease, Max Evans."

Something solemn came over his features, his reaction not the one I had anticipated, and after a beat of silence he said softly, "You want to know why? Why I'm removing your clothes?"

Confused by his behavior, I nodded. How could he remain an enigma to me even when I had access to the express highway into his brain?

His voice was very serious, his eyes tracing my face. "I need to feel you. With no barriers."

I felt my physical desire for him simmer as the emotional need for him exploded.

"This-," he continued and slowly ran a hand up the side of my upper body, "-this is not just about desire to me. To feel you like this. To be _this close_ to your body and feel your skin against mine. It grounds me. I can't..." he dropped his eyes away from me, his hand stilling over the side of my ribcage, while he shook his head slightly, "I don't even know how to... I can't find the words of how-"

My heart squeezed with deep love and adoration for this man and I moved my hand from his forehead to settle under his chin, coaxing him to look up at me again, before I leaned in to kiss him tenderly.

I was falling apart from all of this. I don't think a body as young as mine is supposed to be able to handle all of these emotions, this type of all-consuming deep love. And I don't think he was prepared for it either.

I could feel how it was almost drowning him and how he was reaching out to grab a hold of me, like a lifeline, to anchor him. In his words, to _ground him_.

His feelings resonated with mine. Something that provided me with a security that I suspected not many couples out in the real world were granted with. The knowledge that your partner loved you just as much as you loved them.

"We're gonna get through this," I whispered when I pulled back slightly from his lips. His dark eyes blinked up into mine and I added, "They can't stop us." I put my hand on his chest, over his heart, for emphasis. "They can't stop this."

He looked at me for the longest of seconds while I observed the trembles subtly shaking his body, the tightening of his hand around my ribs, his thumb brushing against the underside of my breast, the shift in his lower body to once again put his leg across my thigh and pull our lower bodies close together.

"Diversion is hard," he whispered and I followed his change of topic without surprise.

In order to survive this, we needed to be unified. We needed to start preparing to fight for our right to an existence in this alien society. We needed to start to utilize what the bond might offer us.

"But it can buy you valuable time. And if you learn to use it correctly, the same method can be used to protect parts of your mind."

"Blocking," I whispered back. "Like you do to me."

He grimaced and said, mostly in clarification, "To protect you."

I smirked at him, but it was too loving to come off as a true disagreement as I told him, "The jury's still out on that one."

His eyes softened in silent apology as he compromised, "I'll ease off on my 'protecting habits' as soon as I'm certain that you can protect yourself."

I thought back to our secret meeting in the desert in the middle of the night and acknowledged, "But I've already managed to block you."

He smiled tenderly, looking at me proudly. "Yes. You have." He lifted his hand from my ribs and moved it to brush at my hair, tucking it behind my ear. "Which means that I have high expectations of you, Elizabeth Parker."

I wrapped my arm around his waist and compelled him closer, connecting our foreheads in close proximity.

A wistful insecurity had befallen me and I wondered if he knew if, "Am I really different from other gaeas? Stronger?"

He looked up at me through dark thick eyelashes and said, "I've never heard of anyone like you. And I think I would have, considering the turmoil you've caused in the alien society."

This worried me, even when his tone was light. "Turmoil?"

Max took a deep breath and pulled back slightly. "Everyone knows about you. It's been hard to keep all the information about you hidden. You're famous. Everyone wants to know everything about you."

I shivered. "Famous as in that they want to read about me in the gossip magazines? Or famous as in that they hate me and wish me dead?"

He moved his hand to flutter down my shoulder and out along the arm that I had wrapped around his waist. Reaching my hand he threaded our fingers together and pulled our interlocked hands between our bodies, pressing them between my soft breasts.

I tried to ignore the sensations the pressure of our joined hands between my breasts created.

He was troubled as he answered, "Famous as in that they want to keep track of you. Considering you a loose cannon. Wanting to take the laws in their own hands if you were to jeopardize our society."

"Oh my God," I breathed, fear striking me hard and Max's fingers tightened around mine in response. "They're all out to get me, aren't they?"

He hesitated in light of my fear, before trying to smooth things over by, "No, it's not that bad."

But I ignored his weak attempt at calming me down and thought back to that alien party and the people at school after Sean had forced me into a boys' locker room. I remembered how they had looked at me when I had stalked across the canteen to practically pull Max out of school and confront him about him not wanting to have sex with me.

 _Oh God_ , I thought in embarrassed realization. I really _had_ made a scene that day, which Max had alluded to when we had gotten outside. Max had even been understating the whole scenario, because I had made more than a scene. I had probably fueled a lot of suspicions about a possible relationship between Max and I.

"All those people... They were all staring..." I looked at him to gauge his reactions to my words. "They were all calculating, seeing what I would do. If they had to intervene."

Max shook his head and said calmly, "They wouldn't have been able to intervene. If they had hurt you, they would have had to answer to the law of having damaged a valuable gaea."

"But they all knew about me. They knew - _know_ \- who I am."

Max hesitated too long, his thought beating his audible answer. _They've always known._

I swallowed. "So everyone knows who the gaeas are?"

"They'd have to," Max replied. "We're all supposed to indirectly look out for the gaeas."

I frowned. "We're really _that_ important, are we?"

"I don't think you fully understand the heightening of power that a bonding with a gaea will provide a person of the military with," Max said seriously. "It could single-handedly save our existence if it came to that."

I lowered my eyes in contemplative sadness. "It can save your society, but it can't save you and me."

"It's not the same," Max replied. "You being bonded to the military would most likely succeed in a fight against human beings. You being bonded to me in a fight against _other aliens_ might not guarantee the same success. Our opponents are completely different. Our bond would have to withstand alien forces. Your bond with, for instance, Sean, would only have to withstand human forces."

"But it's never actually been tried, has it?" I questioned. "You haven't had any civil wars, any uprisings?"

"Some individuals have tried," Max said cautiously, almost like he was afraid that I would get ideas from what he was about to tell me. "But they haven't survived for long."

But in spite of Max's attempt at not coaxing a flame to life in me, I couldn't help but ask, "What have they protested against?"

"Our society," Max answered slowly. "Our laws. Our treatment of human beings."

"Are there any of those individuals still alive, having those same opinions in secret?"

My heart had started a wild beating in my chest and I could feel the vibrations from that forceful and hopeful rhythm bump against our interlocked hands pressed up against my breasts.

"I don't know," Max answered and for all I could read in him, he was being honest. "The possibility of them being _secret_ and all..."

"But there might be?" I hedged, not wanting to let go of the hope. The hope that someone on the other side - the alien side - was against the treatment of gaeas, the treatment towards me. That someone in the 'alien camp' wanted to live more like humans, peacefully, and abolish their own rigid society which existed outside of the human one.

"As soon as they reveal themselves, they are - if their role in society is not too valuable - punished by death."

"And if they're too valuable?" I asked, thinking of Max. Thinking of if the meeting tonight would actually - by some miracle - lead to the aliens accepting our bonding and what that would mean for us. Would I really be able to be a part of a society that had threatened my free will, had killed my mom and had wanted to make me into a slave through rape?

I was thinking of what it would mean if Max and I joined some possible secret group inclined to revolt against the current society and what would happen were we to get caught. I'd probably be assigned to the first best military man for a new bonding, but what about Max? What would happen to Max?

He gave me a soft kiss, his love for my concern about his future well-being permeating our bond, before he answered, "They would attempt to re-educate them."

Right... At the institution.

"Has it ever worked?"

"I think so," Max mumbled, but averted his eyes in afterthought. "At least, we don't really get to hear much about the rebels. It gets hushed down very quickly. To not give anyone else any ideas."

"Which is why they're all following my misfortunate 'adventures' with fascination?" I asked, referring back to Max labeling me as famous.

Max nodded, bittersweetness flowing through our bond. "You're a rebel. Even if you haven't consciously broken any rules. Even if you're - technically - not under alien law. You have still fought us. Fought our rules. Broken our traditions. Rather disrespectfully so. But you have not been reprimanded. They have tried to silence you, through me, but have not succeeded. In a situation where someone like you would've been silenced a long time ago - either by re-education or death - the community can watch you break one law after the other and see nothing happen."

"Which must be considered detrimental to the community," I filled in.

He grimaced. "There are a lot of reasons as to why they have been trying to keep us apart."

"Then why haven't they just collected me? Locked me up and have Sean force himself on me? That would have shut me up. Would have put me back in the place where they want me?"

I could see by the confusion on his face that he didn't really know the answer to that one. "I'm not really sure." A deep wrinkle of confusion settled between his eyebrows. "I would say that it's because they were waiting for you to become ready, waiting for the glow to develop, but that wouldn't explain everything. They could wait out the glow while you were in their captivity."

I bit my bottom lip in contemplation and changed gears, "Speaking of glows..."

His features softened, the line on his forehead smoothening out, before he leaned forward and placed a soft peck on the tip of my nose. "Yes?"

"What does the glow mean? I get that it's a step in my development, but how? Why?"

"The glow, technically, is concentrated energy between two individuals. It's not just the alien's energy moving towards the human, it's the human _reciprocating_. The total of those energies creates an energy overload in a way that produces light."

"And me reciprocating your energy means...?"

"That your energy has been matched to mine. Before, when I used your energy, you would become depleted. My energy was stronger than yours-" He interrupted himself with a frown, wondering if he was confusing me, and backtracked to, "All of us with alien blood have a higher energy level than humans. I told you that my body temperature is higher than humans. This is part of it. My body emits too much energy, but also needs a lot of energy to fuel my abilities and will drain a human's energy very quickly if I were to tap into it."

"And now? Are my energy levels the same as an alien now? Is my body temperature elevated to that of an alien?"

I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I had anticipated there to be some changes to my body, considering that I had bonded with an alien after all, but to actually hear that it might result in permanent changes that could be measured - like that of my core temperature - was a bit nerve-wrecking. To put it simply, I would never be able to go to the doctor again without them thinking that I was running a chronic fever.

"Your energy levels are the same," Max explained. "But your body can reroute it more efficiently. The mechanism has not been fully studied yet - since there hasn't been that many gaeas - but your energy can work to assist mine without you losing too much of the energy for your own bodily functions. Earlier, a pull on your energy would pull from all parts of your body, exhausting you. Now it can pull from parts of your body that can afford to lose that energy."

"Does that mean that my mom was never ready? That she didn't have the glow? Is that why she was so exhausted?"

"No. Your mom wouldn't have lasted that long if she hadn't reached that developmental stage," Max said. "The reason why she was so tired was partly because she was fighting the bond, but mostly because the usage has a maximum. We can't use too much of your energy without letting you refuel - in the form of rest."

"What was happening in your society around the time of my mom's death? Why were they using so much of her energy?"

Max looked at me with regret, like he was sorry that he couldn't give me a concrete answer, knowing that it was important to me. "I honestly don't know. I just know that the sergeant was training a lot. Fine-tuning his abilities. Learning new abilities."

"Like he was preparing for a war," I mused quietly.

Max didn't reply, but his mind was considering what I was referring to. I found his speculations matching mine and I picked one thought out and voiced it, "Almost like there actually _is_ a rebellious group somewhere and he's preparing to fight them."

"It makes sense," Max agreed slowly, surprising me with his acknowledgement. Up until now, Max had appeared reluctant to agree to any of my 'conspiracy' speculations about his race.

Instead he added, "Which would explain why Sean was so quick at trying to bond with you, even before your energy had been matched to that of an alien, right after your mother's death."

"He even started before that," I reflected quietly, thinking of Sean taking me out on a date the days before the camp. Mere days before my mom was murdered.

"Because they knew that they might have to get rid of Nancy," Max said slowly and belatedly grimaced at his choice of words. It had sounded harsh that someone had wanted to 'get rid of' the woman that had loved me so deeply, but unfortunately it was how they saw it. My mother's murderers.

"Sorry," Max mumbled, kissing the top of my knuckles. Taking a deep breath, he finished what he had planned to say, "They needed a replacement quickly. Because if there actually is a rebellious group somewhere, they would probably see it as a nice opportunity to move in when the sergeant was without a gaea."

"So why haven't they?" I asked, confused, and a bit annoyed. If this imaginary group of ours actually existed, why were they waiting, giving Sean more time to work on his bond with me, giving me more time to get ready (in respect to my gaea development)? In essence, waiting for me to become a powerful weapon.

"I-" Max started, but realized that he lacked an explanation. There was frustration in his voice as he admitted, "I have no idea."

I held my breath against the flash of hope and almost felt ridiculous suggesting it, because of its naïvety and hopefulness. "Maybe they're waiting for _us._ "

Max frowned. "You mean...?" His grip tightened on my hand. "You mean that they would somehow know that we were bonded and would hope that we were to join their side and fight for the rebellion?"

I nodded. "Is that so impossible though? You said it yourself; every alien is watching us. Most of them probably don't know about our bond, but there most be some important people that know. I mean, even your _mother_ knew of you bonding with me the night of the fire. And neither you or your father knew that she knew. And you being re-educated at such a young age must have been newsworthy. Maybe someone has followed you - and me - and our relationship with each other throughout the years, perhaps hypothesizing that our connection would come to life again. Perhaps knowing that there was a chance that us bonding again might be a better bond than a forced one. Maybe someone is pretty certain that we would want to revolt against the laws that would work to keep us apart. Maybe to some aliens out there, we're their secret weapon."

He was staring at me, his mind shocked into silence.

"Is that a possibility?" I whispered quietly, feeling uncertain under the weight of his silence.

Then the feelings started to unfold in his body, exploding through our bond. The most prevalent was impressiveness and awe. He was looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world, like I was a beautiful rare treasure.

"Max?" I gulped, his feelings making my voice shake.

"Why haven't I thought of that?" Max whispered.

I worried my bottom lip and tried to lighten the heaviness of his thoughts with a, "Because you were too busy worrying about me?"

He nodded slowly, not a trace of lightness on his face though as he mumbled in all seriousness, "Maybe."

I breathed a short laugh, looking at him with eyes wide with disbelief and hope. "There might actually be a way out of this...?"

He swallowed, blinked slowly twice, and then nodded. "Yes." Letting that word sink in, a beautiful smile spread across his lips with the realization of what that meant. "Yes."

"But we would have to fight," I observed quietly, a sliver of fear trickling through me. I was not pro-war. I was my mother's daughter - a pacifist.

A pacifist that might have to prepare for a war against aliens.

His smile slipped off his face and he said with quiet remorse, his concern for me strong across the connection, "Yes."

"Us against the aliens?" I suggested, feeling weighed down by the implication.

He nodded slowly, repeating that one-word again, like the implications of what was about to happen had removed every other word from his vocabulary. "Yes."

I inhaled deeply, letting my body sink against his, soaking up his warmth and concentrating on the comforting feeling of his skin against mine. "Let's do it."

His hand released mine and he brought it up to cup my cheek, slowly pulling my lips to his.

"I love you," he whispered against my lips before he united our hopes and dreams with our fears of war and death.


	55. FIFTY-FIVE

**_Hi everyone! I'm doing a double-post today, since chapter 55 is fairly "short" (by my standards). Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!_**

 _loveisalifetimeproject - Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 _brokenbride - Glad you liked it. It's always good with information, isn't it? Especially in a "confusing" story like this one ;-) Even more information in this one._

* * *

 **FIFTY-FIVE**

"You already know a lot about the sergeant," Max started and I saw the face of Sean Carter's father flash in his mind, displayed for me to see. But when he could have communicated with me entirely through memory images and thoughts, he chose to do it the human way; speaking.

Which I was happy about.

I closed my eyes, my cheek resting on his chest. My body was draped over his in a manner that made my upper body move slowly up and down with every breath he took.

I loved listening to his voice. Loved the way the masculine darkness to his voice mixed with a softness I could read in the deepest parts of his soul.

If melted chocolate had a voice, it would sound like Max's.

So I relaxed my mind, subconsciously instructing it not to pay any attention to Max's thoughts or the background noise across the bond (which I was still very unused to). It still took me a lot of energy to sort through that added level of communication, so it was almost a relief to let it slide by unnoticed for now.

I put my arm across his abdomen, cradling the left side of his taut stomach in my palm, while I tucked my body up against his right side and slung one leg across his thigh. I really tried to not be distracted by his right arm around my back, where his fingers were slowly tracing up and down my spine as he kept talking.

I really really tried.

"Sgt. Steven Carter is a pure alien. Both of his parents were military."

I frowned at this. With all the hostile male aliens around, I had only assumed that females didn't carry that much power or authority in the alien community. But while I was trying not to focus on Max's thoughts but rather his spoken words, Max seemed very aware of mine and immediately paused his story to respond to my reflection.

"You're right. Women usually don't hold a lot of power. But it depends on their heritage, which can give them either a lot of power or very little. Sean's paternal grandmother came from a very strong family. No one could ignore her powers and her possible contribution to our community. So she was made an essential part of the army. Producing a son with Robert Carter assured that their offspring would be powerful."

An ice-cold shudder raced through me. "How have I been able to fight against him? Sean?" My mumble had my lips brush against his - amazingly good smelling - skin with every word. "If he comes from such a powerful family?"

"Sean hasn't reached his full potential yet. None of us has actually. On average, you do so around the age of 19. But with practice, you can do it earlier."

"And if you bond with a gaea..?" I asked darkly.

"It depends on the gaea. If she's ready, and strong - especially mentally, there's the capacity of the alien reaching his full potential much sooner," Max whispered and his fingers curled protectively against my waist, his strong arm pressing up against my back and consequently pressing me closer.

I blinked and looked up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes were concerned and questioning as he met mine and he moved his hand from my back to bury in my hair.

"So if Sean were to bond with me now - after I've been more _qualified_ for the job - he would become very dangerous. Very strong."

Max nodded slowly before raising his head off the pillow and placing a lingering kiss on my lips. "But that won't happen," he said with clear-cut determination as he pulled back. " _We_ are bonded."

I smiled, even though I wasn't feeling very happy, but I felt like I should lighten up the conversation. "Yeah," I said weakly. "He can just go screw himself."

His lips twitched in bemusement and he placed a short kiss between my eyebrows. "Yes. Quite literally so."

I grimaced and let my head fall back to his chest, nuzzling my face into the comfort of his body. "Eww... mental image..."

But Max quickly became serious, and I could feel the stress of time in him. We were getting closer to noon. Max's parents had left for work and Isabel had left for school hours ago. They were all keeping up the pretense that everything was normal, while Max and I laid practically naked, except for our underwear, curled up around each other, in the middle of the day, in Max's childhood room.

But compared to other teenagers skipping school and being naked in bed with each other, we were not being triumphant at escaping the rules of society (about going to school) or even taking advantage of the alone time by having sex. We were discussing aliens, secret rebellions, sharpening senses and abilities and preparing for the most important meeting of our lives.

"The sergeant is very strong. He inherited a lot of his strength at using his specific ability from his parents, but during all the years of being bonded to your mother, his abilities developed exponentially. He has adopted some other abilities that were not originally his, but I don't know how good he is at them. He does, however, excel at mind control. Which makes him a really dangerous man."

Max's warm hand against my back caught the ice-cold shiver running down my spine.

"The sergeant is power-hungry and likes to control people. He enjoys being superior a little bit too much."

"But he's not the one in charge...?" I guessed.

Max shook his head. "No. That would be Command."

I silently sighed. More military people. Why would they put them in charge? No wonder the rules were so rigid.

"You'll meet him tonight, I presume," Max said quietly and I tried to discern who this Command was. What impressions Max had of him.

But, "You haven't met him very often?" I guessed.

Max traced his fingers up my spine and weaved them through my hair. "No. He only attends the very important meetings. Most of his tasks are given to the sergeant, his second in command."

"So for you to suspect that he will be attending the meeting tonight...?"

"We're a really significant problem," Max said grimly.

"Right," I observed quietly, distractedly drawing circles with my finger over his smooth chest, tracing the ridges defining his abdominal muscles, his pectorals, briefly wondering how much he had to work out to get that body.

"I presume he's not the most pleasant person?" I asked.

Max hesitated, considering my question, before saying, "It's hard to put a finger on who he is. He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to. His mere presence demands authority and respect. You know the second he steps into a room. He's extremely powerful, mostly due to the fact that he's of royal blood."

This surprised me and I lifted my head to look up at him. His eyes were shifting with emotion as he met mine.

"Royal?" I asked in intrigued surprise. "You have royalty?"

"We had on our own planet. The royal blood provides more power - more energy - than a 'regular' alien. Their royal blood is equal to the power provided by a gaea."

"Oh," I whispered. "That's why Command didn't need my mother, why she was assigned to the second in command instead."

Max nodded. "Yeah."

"Which means that Command is extremely powerful, judging from what you've just told me about aliens who successfully bond with gaeas."

Max looked sad as he slowly scanned my face. "And he doesn't have to expend energy on bending someone's will to get access to that power or even wait for that human to refuel."

"Convenient," I mumbled sarcastically, while I was - once again - wondering how we were supposed to do this. How were we supposed to not only be able to convince this group of powerful frightening aliens of the right to our own lives and wills, but also how were we supposed to even survive a meeting with them?

"Sean will probably also attend," Max said clearly, obviously to distract my dark thoughts and prevent the numbing pain from spreading in my body.

"He's fairly good with his ability." I could tell that Max was struggling to keep his voice neutral and his account objective, when he really wanted to inform me of what a scum and idiot Sean was (as if though I didn't already know that from first-hand experiences). But pouring his hatred for the guy that had mistreated me out right now wouldn't appropriately utilize the little time we had before the meeting to our advantage.

"But he could have been better if he had been able to focus."

"What do you mean?" I asked, placing my cheek back against his chest, letting my head move slowly up and down with each one of his even breaths.

"He's too easily distracted by his feelings-"

"Yeah," I interrupted, "About that."

I pushed myself up on my elbows, closed my eyes momentarily against the sensation of my nipples brushing against his chest as I slightly elevated my upper body above his to look at him.

"You told me once that aliens don't have emotions. But still, I've seen the opposite in your father just recently and I've seen Sean get really frustrated and lose his temper. Plus, even if you yourself have human in you, you are also alien, and I've never met a person with your range of emotions before."

"Maybe I should have clarified that," Max answered guiltily. "We have feelings. But the more human we are - and the impact of society also seems to affect how much our emotions develop - the more feelings we are able to express. The purebloods more strongly feel the _primal_ emotions. Anger and desire. The raw, untamed feelings. They possess other emotions as well, but are not very good at feeling or expressing those. When I say that they lack emotions, I'm talking about their ability to connect with others, to sympathize and to understand what another person is going through. In a way, they lack empathy."

"Like psychopaths?" I stated, thinking back to a book I had read on the subject of just psychopaths and how they were defined as having neither empathy or remorse, their disorder manifesting in aggressive, perverted or amoral behavior.

That sounded disturbingly familiar. I frowned. Why hadn't I made that connection before? Essentially, they were all a bunch of psychopaths, perpetually armed with dangerous inhuman abilities.

"Yeah," Max agreed, finding my unspoken definition oddly fitting. "Exactly like that."

"Well, that's just excellent," I declared succinctly. I looked up into his eyes, my feelings softening at the troubled expression on his face. "Then why did you turn out the way you did? Is it because of your mom? Did she raise you a certain way?"

He looked away from me and I could feel his discomfort. He didn't like to talk about himself, especially not about something that I was in awe of. For some reason, he didn't think he deserved my attention in that way. He didn't find himself very special.

I was just about to comment on this, when he cut me off by hypothesizing, "I think it's a combination of things. My mom certainly had something to do with it, giving me as much of a normal _human_ upbringing from the start as she could. And then there was Sarah-"

I remembered the beautiful young woman I had seen in Max's memory earlier. Max's caretaker while they were trying to break his connection to me in that institution when he had been not more than a boy.

"She was amazing," Max filled in. The love for that woman was noticeable in his voice, making my stomach tightened with warmth. I had never met this woman, only seen the image of her face, but already I was very fond of her because of her positive involvement in taking care of and shaping Max.

"And then there's the healing."

I worried my bottom lip as I looked at him. But he was still keeping his eyes averted, concentrating his gaze on following the fluttering trail of his fingers down the outside of my arm which was draped across his abdomen.

"The healing?" I prompted.

"Isabel was the first one I healed," Max said quietly, losing himself in thought. "I was three."

I swallowed deeply. "You were _three_?" That was young. That seemed too young to take on a responsibility like that.

"She wasn't seriously injured," Max clarified, trying to smooth my shocked appall over. "She broke her leg."

That sounded serious to me, but I refrained from asking him what he considered a 'serious' injury. I was suddenly afraid to find out what horrors Max might have been 'forced' to heal over the years. Maybe some while he was still very young.

"Why didn't your dad heal it?"

"He wanted me to start easing into using my ability. It would be easier for me to connect with her, considering that she's my twin."

It felt as if my eyes almost fell out of their sockets. _"She's your twin?"_

Max laughed at me and finally met my eyes. "Yeah. You didn't know that?"

I frowned incredulously. "No?"

Why hadn't I known that? Of course, they were in the same year in school, but I always assumed that one of them had stayed behind a year or the other one had skipped ahead a year.

"No one has ever mentioned it," I said hesitantly, searching my memory for such a statement.

Max shrugged. "I guess you're right. We usually don't talk about it much. And most people make the same assumptions that you have made - that one of us has skipped ahead or got behind."

"Does this mean that Isabel has healing powers too? If you're twins, you should share the same ability right?"

Max shook his head. "I guess, if we were identical twins. But obviously, since I have a penis and she doesn't, we're not."

My laughter was abrupt, his crudeness surprising me in the midst of our heavy conversation. I rolled my eyes at his satisfied grin for making me laugh and agreed, "You have a point."

He put his hands around the top of my upper arms and gently pulled me up along his upper body, aligning our mouths together. "Come here," he mumbled and fused our lips together.

I softened against him, letting my left leg fall between his legs, my thigh consequently resting against that aforementioned difference between these particular fraternal twins. He groaned into my mouth and fisted his hand into my hair at the pressure from my body and I dug my nails into the sides of his ribs as his tongue swirled with mine, blazing heat through my body.

"Is it possible to need someone all the time?" he questioned as he separated our lips.

"I think stalkers have that feeling," I supplied with a smile.

He brushed the hair that was falling forward, and brushing alluringly against his chest, back with his fingers running down the side of my face and answered seriously, "Then I'm stalking you, Liz Parker."

"I don't mind," I whispered back, his words doing delicious things to my body.

His response was to tighten his arms around my back, forcing me to surrender to his pressure and merge my body with his in a tight embrace. I felt his cheek press against the top of my head as everything that couldn't be put into words flowed calmly back and forth through our connection.

I kept quiet for about three minutes, enjoying his close proximity, before I really needed to know, "What are Isabel's abilities then?"


	56. FIFTY-SIX

**FIFTY-SIX**

He chuckled above me, my body moving deliciously with the vibrations, and he loosened his grip slightly on me. "Ever the inquisitive one."

"You can't change me, Max Evans," I threatened and he scoffed.

"I'm not interested in changing you."

"Right," I mused, his amused statement meaning more to me than I wanted to admit, before I pressed on, "And Isabel?"

"She's a covenant," Max replied.

I pursed my lips in thought. "Meaning...?"

"She's entrusted with abilities from others."

"She borrows abilities?" I guessed, trying to make sense of what he meant.

"In a way, yes. For instance, I can give her from my healing ability for her to use."

"And it will last forever?" I asked, surprised. That would make Isabel really powerful. She could just collect abilities.

"No, the duration of the ability equals the amount given by the supplier," Max replied vaguely.

"Meaning..?" I repeated. Come on, Max. Lay person here!

He kissed me softly again, a smile on his lips, before he answered, "If you were hurt and I wouldn't be able to get to you to heal you, I could give some of my healing to Isabel to use for you. The amount and time she'd be able to use to heal you would depend on how extensive your injuries are and how much energy I've been able to give her. For instance, if we were both injured and I sent Isabel to heal you, I wouldn't be able to supply her with as much energy that might be required to fully heal you, considering that I myself was injured."

I inhaled deeply. All these examples of Max and I being injured were darkening my thoughts. I tried to push them away and asked, "So she has no abilities of her own. She only 'borrows'? She's like an assistant? Using someone's powers to help them out; extend their abilities in a way."

"Isabel's ability is more important than you might think. No one - except for covenants - can just take on another alien's ability like that. If I wanted, say, the ability to control minds just as well as the Sergeant can, I would have to learn it. Practice it. Isabel will take the ability on in the quality it is when she is handed the power. So if she were to get the healing ability supplied by my father, her healing would be much more efficient than if it was supplied by me, since I'm not as advanced as my father."

"But when you give it to Isabel, do _you_ lose your ability for the duration of the time when Isabel is using your power?"

Max shook his head. "No. I just lose the energy that was needed in the transfer of my ability to her mind."

I nodded slowly. It was kinda making sense. "Okay."

I had decided that Isabel's 'power' was a pretty cool one. To be able to try out new abilities all the time must be exciting. At least to an alien.

"Does she have any of her own abilities?"

Max nodded. "Yes. This just concerns her special ability. She has the same ordinary abilities as the rest of us; giving away energy-" My memory flashed to how Isabel fed me energy to give to Max while he was succumbed to the cold in their basement, "-doing simple molecular changes-" I thought about when Isabel had locked us into the girls' bathroom yesterday, locking the door by holding a glowing hand over the lock, "-and protecting ourselves with energy bursts."

"You shoot energy?" I inquired with a raised eyebrow.

He chuckled at my incredulity and said, "Yeah. But there are different degrees to this as well. A lot of focus of your energy and the ability to pull energy from all parts of your body and then release it from, for instance, your hand. It takes practice and concentration."

"In a way I'm happy that you at least have to practice to do all of that," I grumbled. "You already seem to have a very unfair advantage on humans."

He grimaced, as if he wasn't really happy about that unleveled playing field. "Definitely."

I frowned with the pause that followed Max's statement as I got the feeling that I had lost a loose end somewhere, something that Max had been starting to tell me when I had gotten distracted by the fact that he and his sister had shared a womb at the same time.

My mind manufactured an image of a three-year-old brown-haired boy putting his hand on the broken leg of his blonde sister and I caught onto that memory string and, "What does your healing have to do with the development of feelings?"

"Right," Max breathed and wrapped his leg around the back of mine - the hairs on his legs moving in a delicious teasing friction against my own smooth leg - as he rearranged his upper body, all the while keeping a close contact between our bodies. "Healing is very..." His voice trailed off as he got a far-away look in his eyes, a heaviness settling over his face. "Healing is very consuming. It demands a lot of energy, because you're not only repairing cells and rearranging molecules, you're also feeding energy into the cells to bring them back to life, in a way."

"Like kick-starting a battery," I suggested.

He blinked out of the dazed look and looked down at me. "Exactly." He moved his hand to my face, brushed fingers slowly over my eyebrow, my forehead, along the angle of my jaw bone. I could very clearly observe, though the bond, what he was thinking about. He was remembering putting my body back together. He was remembering the pain from my injuries, the cells melting from the heat, my skin breaking apart from erupting blisters.

My breathing turned laborious in my chest as I momentarily revisited that ordeal and this time also had to feel it through Max's experiences.

His own voice was strained as he continued, "It consumes your energy levels and your emotional levels."

I experienced, with relief and a touch of awe, how he manually pushed the memory of that horrible morning away, letting us both breathe easier again. But he had certainly made his point. Even though I would have believed him anyway.

"When you heal someone, you experience their pain from the injury and their emotional reaction to it," I stated. My mouth was dry and my heart was pounding against his chest.

"That's what a connection does," Max said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. "It would be a lot more efficient if I didn't have to feel all of that; I would be able to focus more on healing and less on trying to push away all the pain in order to concentrate."

I grimaced. Everyone knows how hard it is to concentrate on something when you are in pain.

"I don't feel it to the full degree like the person I'm healing is feeling though," Max admitted, "But it's enough."

"How many?" I whispered. How many had he healed? How many had he formed a connection to?

He hesitated, doing a quick count in his head. "Forty something? Probably."

That's a lot. I shivered. "Which means that you connect with a lot of different people, feel a lot different types of pain-"

He interrupted me by saying, "In a way; I've broken my legs four times, had several concussions, had two heart attacks, been shot three times, had my arm crushed underneath a car, been fatally burnt-" he looked at me with sadness and I knew that he was referring to me, "-fallen from the fourth floor, and..." He took a deep breath. "You get the point."

I nodded. Max had the power to heal; remove pain and save lives. But in return he had a lifetime of excruciating pain.

"Which makes it easier for you to understand people, understand what they are going through, their emotions and their feelings," I filled in, knowing what point he was trying to make.

Max nodded.

But something was still not making sense to me. "But if you connect with all those people, why are you still only connected to _me_? Why don't the other connections stick?"

"Because I break them," Max said simply.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. "But you didn't break the connection to me?"

Max sighed. "I was intending to. But healing you was the most difficult healing I'd ever done. Your injuries were so extensive..." he slowly licked his dry lips and tried to calm his feelings. The memory of my pain and my injuries still rattled him. "I usually break the connection as soon as I'm done. But after healing you, I couldn't focus on actively breaking the connection."

"You were too tired," I said slowly, my heart clenching at the memory of him dropping unconscious into my lap.

He nodded. "My dad had difficulty healing me and I was weak for many hours after. So the connection to you was open for a long time post-healing. Which is unusual."

I frowned. "Why did your dad have difficulty healing you?"

Max shook his head. "He doesn't know. We don't know. Maybe it was the connection to you that was interfering. Maybe the connection was supplying energy to you to finish off the healing."

I pulled on my bottom lip with my teeth. "Is that why the healing didn't 'stick'? Is that why my wounds came back? There wasn't enough energy to completely heal me?"

He took a deep breath and rolled us onto our sides, facing each other. He gave me a soft, concerned, smile while he gently traced strands of my hair off my forehead, moving from the parting of my hair to my ear and back up again.

"I think that's my fault."

There was that familiar guilt in his voice and I brushed my hand up the front of his chest, pressing my palm against the vibrations of his heartbeat through his skin. "What do you mean?"

"Since my dad couldn't fully heal me, I think the connection was pulling on your energy - which is what it does with a gaea - to heal me. I was too weak to notice or have any control over it." He looked away from me and I saw his jaw clench, before he mumbled, ashamed, "The connection returned the healing energy I had given to you to me. It was prioritizing my health and right then I needed energy - a lot of it. So your body barely had a chance to settled into the healed state, before my body started to reverse it by removing the healing energy."

My mind was spinning. In a way it made sense. But it seemed like a stupid arrangement. The gaea was supposed to supply its bonded alien with energy, but if the alien wanted to return that energy and gave too much it would just bounce back.

I guess that was why gaeas normally didn't bond with healers. There was a risk of them just shifting the energy back and forth. In case the gaea needed to be healed, that is.

"So if I were to get badly injured again," I whispered, the whispers of fear thrumming in my body at the realization that me being injured again could be a very real possibility considering that we might have to go into war, "you would only heal me momentarily, because your energy would be depleted, and then you would take back that healing?"

I knew from the fear though the connection that Max was afraid of that same thing. I recognized the hopelessness in his body. The newly awakened realization he had gotten when he had first figured out what had gone wrong with my healing and he had known that he had the power to heal but he just couldn't heal the woman he loved.

"I'm hoping that things will be different now," he said thinly, leaning forward and brushing my lips with his, his need to touch me attempting to drown my fear. "Because of the glow, you're supposed to have equaled my energy and maybe that means that the connection will let us work together better, dividing the energy equally between us instead of just redirecting everything back to me."

"Let's hope for that," I whispered, worriedly.

"But like with everything else, we need to train our connection. Practice."

I made a face, my disbelief in that project seeping into my voice. "Before tonight?"

"Before tonight," he emphasized with grimness.

"Yay," I remarked tonelessly. How could we make the connection _work for us_ instead of it having a life of its own and _directing us_?

I thought back to the pull, the urge, that I had experienced a couple of hours ago. The urge that hadn't been mine own, not even Max's, to join our bodies sexually. In order to seal the process of the glow, it seemed. I hadn't had much control against the pull. I had been completely under the control of the connection.

"I think it affected you more strongly," Max responded to my thoughts and I could only agree, remembering how I had practically attacked Max while he had tried to slow things down. "But then, you haven't had any training around bonds and abilities in general. You don't know how to work around them and to bend them according to your will."

I nodded. "That makes sense." I moved my hand up the firmness of his arm, letting the manly hairs of his forearm brush against my palm, before I caressed up his shoulder and settled my hand into the curve of his neck, finding comfort in the heat and throbbing from the pulse of his jugular. "Maybe we should start working on that bond then."

He met my eyes and I barely had time to catch the mischievous twinkle in his eyes before he had slid across my body, pushed me to my back and was pressing my body down into the mattress with his own.

My breathing was suddenly loud and excited as I looked up into his dark eyes, my body instantly becoming very aware of the feel of his. My voice was breathless and soaked in incomprehension as I gasped, "What are you doing?"

"Working on the bond," he answered with an innocent shrug, before he dived down to nibble the side of my neck with his lips, grazing the thin skin over my pulse with his teeth, creating a tickling sensation that made me laugh.

"That's not really what I meant," I giggled, my hands flying up to his soft hair and dragging my fingernails slowly against his scalp.

"We need this," he said, a smile against me skin and his breath fluttering against my skin to only entice more tickles.

Rationally, I knew that we were pressed for time. Rationally, I knew that we should be smart about this and use every second we had to prepare ourselves both physically and mentally for tonight. But with Max's hands already moving up and down my naked upper body, briefly teasing my breasts, creating mixed sensations of tickles and pleasure with his light touches along my sides, while his mouth recreated hickeys around my neck and shoulders that he had had previously healed, I threw rationality out the window.

We _did_ need this.

Max pulled my panties off and threw the duvet off us with a dramatic movement that prevented my laughter from disappearing, before he silenced the goofiness with his open-mouthed kisses along the insides of my thighs.

I could feel that Max was pushing the connection back, taking control of our moment. Maybe he was trying to prove to me that we could decide for ourselves, that our intimacy was not directed by an alien connection, or maybe he just wanted to ease off on the heaviness of the last couple of hours. But whatever the reason, the third time I made love to Max was playful and loving. He made me laugh while he made pleasure explode into every corner of my soul and I realized that Max too was ticklish - underneath his feet, in his armpits.

We rediscovered each other's bodies, finding ways to tease and prolong the pleasure. Finding satisfaction within a playful shove and within a flirtatious seductive kiss against the ticklish area at the back of one's knee.

Our bodies reached new heights, melted together in comfortable and trusting ways, as we moved together in a very basic human way while our skin was covered in a very alien golden glow.

By the end of it, falling down on our backs beside each other with our breathing loud and rough, we were still laughing with a sheen of sweat covering our bodies and joy strongly interlaced with each beat of our hearts.

Max only stayed away for about five seconds, before he rolled over my body, trapping my leg underneath his thigh and nestled his nose into the curve of my neck while he draped his upper body across my chest. He reached out with the hand that he had positioned around my waist and found my opposite hand, laced our fingers together and pressed a kiss to my neck.

"Sleep, beautiful," he mumbled against my skin.

And even though the evening was approaching - and with it our time was running out - my bone-tired body could do nothing but obey.


	57. FIFTY-SEVEN

Hi, everyone! I do apologize for the delay in updates. I've been away - in Germany - for a week. But now I'm back. So I'll post two chapters for you today, in an attempt to make up for my absence. Thank you for reading!

 _loveisalifetimeproject - Thank you! :-)_

* * *

 **FIFTY-SEVEN**

A soft knock ripped me from my sleep, but by the time I managed to pry my lead-lined eyelids open, Max was already crawling out of bed and I sleepily watched him as he - butt-naked - pulled a pair of sweatpants out of a drawer. Even with the heavy fatigue weighing down on my barely awoken mind, my body didn't fail to respond to the sight of his naked body.

Goosebumps of pleasure spread across my own naked body and my heart fluttered with tempted longing. Unfortunately, (only the fraction of a second later) the voice of Max's father seeped through the locked door, effectively smothering any smoldering feelings that had been tempted into ignition.

"Max?"

Mr. Evans' voice was surprisingly gentle, and I met Max's eyes as he glanced over at me.

Max gave me a brief smile that failed to brighten his eyes and called through the door, "I'll be right there, Dad," before he told me quietly, "Stay here."

I pulled the duvet up to my chin, completely covering my naked body, feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable about being naked with Mr. Evans so close by. Max put his hand over the lock and it unlocked in the same manner as Isabel had gotten the school bathroom door locked and unlocked earlier. I wondered why Max preferred to do it that way. It was not difficult to understand why Isabel would, since she didn't exactly have a key to the girls' bathroom, but for Max to do it in his own home to his own door was...odd.

Max surprised me by answering telepathically, just before he pulled the door open, _Using energy, I can lock it with a signature. Kinda like a password._

While I considered his brief explanation, I watched him pull the door open just enough so that he could slip through it, avoiding to let the door reveal too much of me in his bed.

Of course. If all aliens could lock and unlock doors with their powers, there hadn't been any use for Max to lock his door in his own house earlier. Anyone (anyone _alien_ that is) would still be able to get through. But to have it password protected...

I smiled softly to myself as Max gently closed the door behind him. Alien powers were actually kinda cool.

I could vaguely trace Max's feelings as I slowly woke myself up from my latest nap. He was - probably intentionally - dimming his feelings and thoughts. Like he had turned the volume button down. I found myself looking forward to the day when he wouldn't feel the need to protect me from information.

But at the moment, I was actually kinda relieved that he did. It was exhausting to feel too much of his feelings and hear too many of his thoughts. Your mind became very busy, which occasionally lead to a feeling of me losing my footing on reality.

I could see how one might go insane from sharing too much of someone else's mind. How in the end, all the stimulation - all the mind activity - would become too much. Would become too overwhelming.

I now had an answer as to why Max seemed to know almost instinctively when to shield me from him; when to pull back. He had been practicing since he was three (!) years old to work around a connection; block and diminish. To him, it was probably easier to sort through someone's mind to find relevant information and block out the background noise. Almost like how someone could, amongst the buzzing of multiple voices at a party, block all those voices - except one - in order to concentrate on a specific conversation.

As of yet, I still had difficulty doing this. I still had trouble sorting through Max's head and figuring out what was relevant for me to know. He seemed to guide me in this, sending his direct answers and questions more strongly so that I could more easily pick them up. Just like he would if he were having a verbal conversation with me. But outside of the 'conversations' he had with me, it was tiring to listen in on his mind because I didn't know where to focus.

I was so deep in my own thoughts that I was completely unprepared when the door opened slightly and Max slipped inside the bedroom.

He smiled at me, amusement making his eyes twinkle, as he closed the door behind him. He dropped a small white plastic bag on the floor just inside the door before quickly walking up to the bed, slowing down to lean in and gently capturing my lips with his. The kiss was slow and thorough, his hands moving from my cheeks to bury in my hair.

He groaned with disappointment when he forced himself to pull away. Leaning his forehead against mine, I took in the beautiful blush on his cheeks and smiled at him shyly.

He returned my smile and whispered, "Stop thinking so much. You're hurting my head."

My smile brightened and I lifted my hands to his head to guide his mouth back to mine for another, more extended, kiss.

The duvet had fallen away from my raised upper body, but even though the air in the room was cool, my body was heating up while engulfed in his love.

Our breathing was loud, the breaths dancing around each other in the space between our faces as I pulled back, letting my hands slide slowly down his face, down his neck. "What did your dad want?"

A whisper of seriousness moved over Max's features before he replied, "Dad wants to talk to us."

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. "Both of us?"

Max nodded and kissed me again, briefly but tenderly. "Even though it pains me to say this... Get dressed, Parker."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, and watched - to my body's disappointment - Max reinforcing the interruption of our intimate moment by straightening and initiating a treasure hunt for my clothes. During that process he retrieved the plastic bag that he had dropped earlier, thrust it into my hands while stating "Isabel told me not to look" even though I could see in his mind that he had already taken a peek.

It was silly how I still could get embarrassed, considering how intimate we were and had been, when I found new underwear and a white top inside the bag and knew that Max had seen it. But he efficiently nipped that embarrassment in the bud by grabbing the bag out of my hands, pulling out the white cotton panties, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me before dropping them in my lap.

It took me five minutes to get dressed. Which is a lot longer than my regular 20 or 30 seconds. Mostly due to the fact that Max was intent on 'helping me out', which I very quickly realized was not the most efficient manner in which to get dressed.

By the end of those five minutes, I was hot and bothered, desire curling hotly in the center of my body, and I was plagued by the yearning to remove all those clothes we had just struggled so much to get on.

I saw his jaw muscles clench in attempt to hide the grin on his face as he caught the hot desire in my eyes (and most probably also in my mind) and reached out to grab my hand.

I shook my head at him with a firm scowl. "A tease, Max Evans. You're a tease."

But I couldn't be mad at him when he was looking so adorable; that poorly hidden grin of his turning into a smile.

"And you're stunning, Liz Parker."

With that, he tugged on my hand, and - presenting a unified front - we exited the room and walked downstairs. The flutter of that familiar nervousness began in the pit of my stomach and moved up to my chest the closer we got to the living room.

Philip Evans was there, seated in a black leather armchair, calmly watching our approach.

"Take a seat," he said evenly, gesturing towards the couch.

I glanced at the impressive wooden antique grandfather clock, noting that it was just after 5 p.m., before I took a seat next to Max on the leather couch. Max closed the one-inch distance between our bodies by scooting closer. He did not let go of my hand.

"What's up, Dad?" Max asked.

"We need to talk about tonight," Mr. Evans answered.

"I've tried to give Liz as much information as possible," Max offered and I only felt calmness through the connection.

Something had changed, I realized. Max was a lot more comfortable around his father. Even though Max had been less than happy with his father the last time I had seen them together (after Mr. Evans had told me about my mother's deteriorating mental state), Max seemed to have sunk back into the previous beliefs he'd had about his father; That his father was really trying to help him. That his father was now really trying to help _us_.

In a way it indirectly meant that Max's father had accepted me by his son's side.

That seemed to have been the decisive factor; that Mr. Evans was prepared to help me, the person Max loved.

"Good," Mr. Evans replied and addressed me, "You need to be as informed as possible."

I swallowed and said quietly, "Okay."

"It's very important that you remain quiet at the meeting," Mr. Evans instructed me. "Only respond if you are asked a question or if you are directly addressed."

I nodded. I could do that. It was not like I voluntarily wanted to initiate conversations with the people Max had described anyway.

"Unless otherwise requested by the council, Max will speak for you both," Mr. Evans continued and I couldn't help but feel as if we were preparing to go into court.

Turning to his son, Mr. Evans continued, "Have you prepared any arguments?"

The first touch of insecurity flared through our connection and I glanced at Max.

In a way, this was ridiculous. To have to come up with reasons as to why we should be allowed to be together. It shouldn't have to be like this.

"We have cemented our bond, it will be impossible to break," Max started, his voice more confident than the feelings vibrating hesitantly through him.

 _Cemented,_ I thought, heat blazing through me.

"Unless one of you are sentenced to death," Mr. Evans stated slowly, a hint of concern in his eyes. "And they will most likely vote for _you_ to be that someone, son."

My heart trembled with piercing fear as my eyes snapped to Max's profile and my fingers tightened around his.

 _No_ , my thought practically screamed through our connection, before something frantic took a hold of me. _We shouldn't do this. Maybe we should just run away. It's too dangerous. Too risky._

Max turned to me, fierce determination in his eyes, and whispered, "I refuse to be ashamed of us. I don't want to hide."

"But..." I started to object.

"And that is only if they don't decide to punish you both for actually breaking the law by bonding," Mr. Evans interrupted, curiosity in his voice which sounded a bit off considering his statement. I could only presume that he had been intrigued by the hinted mental connection between Max and I, his tone of voice not having anything to do with what he had just said.

I swallowed at the bitter truth in Mr. Evans' statement. Then there was that. The weakness in using an argument that was based on an infraction.

"What else have you got, Max?" Mr. Evans continued.

"Liz will either consciously or unconsciously refuse a bonding with Sean," Max continued. "Which means that he will use a lot of energy on getting her to fold, risking both his health and Liz's. It will be an unproductive and inefficient bonding."

Mr. Evans shook his head. "Compared to no bonding at all they will settle for that. There are no more gaeas in our vicinity in your generation, Liz. In the world right now, in your generation, there's one more gaea - that we know of. She's in Nigeria. She's twelve. So we're kinda out of options here."

I could gradually feel Max's mood and confidence dropping. My own self-esteem was sliding right along, being dragged down by dark hopelessness.

I definitely didn't want to get out of my pre-determined spot as a gaea just so that some other poor unsuspecting girl would be forced to take my place. But at the same time, I couldn't help but feel disappointed that gaeas were so rare. It put more pressure on the individual. It meant that I could less easily be exchanged, and it markedly decreased the chances Max and I might have for getting a reprieve.

"Then what do you suggest we say?" Max asked his father, a tad of irritation in his voice.

"Son," Mr. Evans sighed and leaned back in his seat. "There's no good argument here. There's nothing that would definitely win them over. If there was, don't you think I would have provided them with that suggestion a long time ago?"

"Would you?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Mr. Evans' eyes widened at my indirect questioning of his loyalty while Max squeezed my hand. Right then it hit me why Mr. Evans had been so intent on informing me that I should keep quiet at the meeting. Both Max and his father knew that I had a tendency to speak my mind and that there was the real risk that I wouldn't accept just anything that would be said at that meeting.

"Yes, Liz," Mr. Evans said slowly, a disapproving bite to his voice. "I want my son to be happy. I've known for many years that you might the one to finally make my self-loathing son happy."

Max's surprise swirled briskly through the connection and I flickered curious eyes to him. I guessed Max didn't know that his father was aware of his self-hating tendencies.

"So of course I've wished that for him." He shook his head in resignation and added, "Of course, it would've been a lot easier if what made him happy was a Porsche, but instead he chooses the most forbidden fruit on the market."

Embarrassed heat crept up my throat and blushed my cheeks.

"If you've known for so many years, you've had plenty of time to come up with suggestions," I said, getting frustrated by this situation.

We were about to (most likely) get separated, punished, and/or killed, and the one person with the most knowledge in the room was playing word games.

Mr. Evans' face darkened in an emotion that I recognized from Max; Barely contained anger. His voice was deadly serious as he spoke without barely changing his tone of voice, "Ms. Parker. _That_ attitude of yours is going to get you killed - gaea or not."

"Dad..." Max warned, but Mr. Evans simply held his hand up to silence him.

"Not by me, even though I'm feeling a bit inclined towards it at the moment, but by the individuals you're about to convince over to your side so that you can survive. The alien community doesn't approve of cheekiness, especially not from a human, especially not from a woman."

I rolled my eyes at this, sinking back against the backrest and grumbling under my breath, "And of course you hate that women have opinions too. How ancient of you."

Max sighed next to me, but lifted our linked hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, adding across the connection, _Don't piss him off too much, Parker. We kinda need him to be on our side tonight._

Max wasn't angry with me. He wasn't even annoyed. There was more of an bemused flavor to his feelings, almost as if he was proud of me for standing up for myself.

I happily sank into his appreciation.

Mr. Evans sighed. "I'm starting to regret suggesting that you both come to the meeting tonight."

I let my eyes drop to my lap, feeling chastened. Of course I didn't want to make things worse, didn't want to - in any way - contribute to reducing Max's and mine chances at the meeting, but this alien community really pissed me off, to be honest.

It was really hard to keep my mouth shut about it, but, "Of course I won't do anything stupid at the meeting." I met Mr. Evans' eyes straight on. "I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't knowingly jeopardize the situation."

Mr. Evans looked unconvinced. An extended silence draped itself over the room as Max and I waited for the next step while observing the expression on Mr. Evans' face softening.

He still did not look pleased when he finally spoke, "Unfortunately, you two being apart tonight when the meeting takes place is not an option. If Max were to go to the meeting alone, the risk of punishment is very high. If you, Liz, were left alone - at home, for instance - while we were attending the meeting, they would probably seek you out and make sure that whatever claims Max has made on you would be nullified."

I swallowed, a tremble moving through my body, through my hand connected with Max's, and disappearing into Max's tense frame.

"They need to see for themselves the power of your connection-"

I thought back to how Isabel had noted something else on us when she had opened the front door for us this morning.

"Is it visible?" I interrupted in whispered fear.

Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes and grew very still.

 _What do you mean?_ Max asked me through the connection. I could feel his mental frown of confusion at the memory flash of Isabel's reaction at the door earlier.

But before I could answer Max's mental question, Mr. Evans answered my audible one, "There's an energy field around you. I think it will be more obvious to some aliens than others. I can just hint it - at intervals. Like short intermittent bursts - flashes." He looked really troubled as his eyes drifted to his son. "But Isabel can see more of it. According to her, you are lighting up like a Christmas tree."

I closed my eyes in fearful nervousness and loudly exhaled my constrained breath, Max's concerned feelings about that piece of information sending chilling goosebumps across the expanse of my skin.

"Which means that they would have known about the connection even if we hadn't told them," Max stated dispassionately.

It was like he was saddened by the whole thing. Sad that our beautiful private bond was not private. That it was projected for the whole (alien) world to see. In a way, it exposed us. Almost like we were put completely naked and vulnerable in front of angry aliens.

"Which is why I wanted you to come to the meeting already tonight," Mr. Evans filled in. "Plus, Sean won't wait any longer. Your sister can't hold him off for too much longer."

Max was humiliated and a bit ashamed about this. I looked at his profile and tried to figure out what that meant. What had Isabel been up to?

But I couldn't catch onto Max's thoughts to get the answer before Max asked, "Will it always be visible? The bond?"

It was the first time I had seen Mr. Evans look really lost. It only lasted for a second, but it made a chill run down my spine. I never thought I would feel scared about Mr. Evans showing signs of being not in control, but that's exactly what I felt in that moment. In the past few hours, I had come to rely on Mr. Evans taking control and helping us through this mess.

"I have no idea, Max," he said slowly, frowning. "I've never seen it before."

The back of my head fell back to impact with the top of the backrest in a sigh. I felt Max glance at me, but I kept my eyes to the ceiling.

Another unusual factor concerning Max and I. Which could be a positive thing, but it could also be negative. Making us more transparent and vulnerable.

"Tell me the truth, Dad," Max said quietly, his fingers loosening around mine only to curl around my wrist, resting his fingertips lightly against the pulse at the back of my wrist, his need to feel the life pulsate through me clear in his mind. "Is our bond special enough to help us? To save us?"

I slowly lifted my head from the backrest and straightened up to look at Mr. Evans. I found myself holding my breath, silently awaiting Mr. Evans' answer.

"It's the only chance we got," Mr. Evans said slowly. "It's our best - and only - advantage. The fact that they can actually see the bond, might make it easier to convince them that there's something special about this connection. That they should let you have it. That they can get more use out of you as a bonded couple than if they were to separate you."

I felt the hope sneaking back into my heart seconds before Mr. Evans made it pause and start to retract by saying, "But it might also completely backfire. Might make them think that the unusual strength of the bond is due to the gaea, which would mean that she can create that bond with any other alien. Which would mean that her bonding with a purist rather than a hybrid, would make the bond even stronger. Which would make that bonded couple into an unique weapon."

I felt myself grow weak and looked at Max just in time to see the color drain from his face.

 _Of course. That was exactly what they would believe._ It was not that I was being negative; I was being rational, scarred by the events of these last couple of weeks. _They want their gaea back in their control. They want their military fortified._

At my dark thoughts, clearly matching his own, Max let go of my wrist and put his arm around the back of my shoulders, pulling me into his body.

I lifted my legs off the floor and let them fall, slightly bent, across the side of Max's thigh, curling myself into his side.

I wanted to cry. I really really needed to cry. My chest was aching and the rest of my body felt numb.

"Just remember," Mr. Evans said evenly, but with a touch of sympathy in his voice, "Even if things don't go the way we want them to at the meeting, I'll be there for you, okay?"

I pressed my nose into Max's shoulder and took a deep inhalation of the smell from his sweater. Laundry detergent and Max.

 _What did that mean?_

"It means that he might not be able to take any action in front of the members to help us out, but that he'll work around the politics any way he can," Max replied softly, pressing his lips to the top of my head and tightening his arm around my shoulders.

"Yes," Mr. Evans confirmed. "In order to help you, I will have to give the impression that I'm still on their side." There was a two seconds pause before he added, with a disturbing grimness, "No matter what happens."

 _No matter what happens._

I curled further up against Max's side and squeezed my eyes tightly closed.

I had a bad feeling about all of this. A really bad feeling.


	58. FIFTY-EIGHT

**FIFTY-EIGHT**

Diane interrupted our 'meeting' by stepping around the corner and asking, "Do you have time for dinner?"

I glanced at Diane's open face, before looking at Mr. Evans who was giving his wife a gentle smile. "Of course. I bet the youngsters are hungry."

He smiled at us and I found myself blushing, afraid that Max's father knew what activities Max and I might have engaged in that were efficient at working up an appetite.

I felt Max's amusement at my mortification, but the seriousness of the situation we found ourselves in kept him from laughing, instead pressing a kiss to my temple and whispering, "Let's eat."

"Great," Diane said, sounding relieved.

Max pulled me to my feet and I became aware of the rich smells of a home cooked meal. How had I missed those fragrances before? I must have been really focused on the conversation.

But while my stomach rumbled for sustenance, the smells overwhelmed my frightened and nervous senses, making me nauseous at the thought of eating.

"You need to eat," Max said, an irritated bite to his voice as my stomach threatened to turn over at this soft order.

He pulled a chair out for me at the decked table and practically pushed me into the seat.

"I'm not feeling too good," I mumbled back, swallowing back the nausea.

"You need your strength," Max replied, his tone of voice leaving no room for objections.

"I'll grab something to eat in the car on the way to the meeting," I tried and my stomach made a worrisome twist as Diane placed a large roasted chicken in the middle of the table.

My body was craving food whilst my mind was abhorring it.

"You'll feel better once you start eating," Max said, already reaching for the chicken even though no one except us had taken a seat.

He grabbed my plate and placed it next to the chicken before carving off piece after piece for me and placing them on my plate.

Diane reentered the dining area at that point, frowning at her son, and scolded, "Max, I'm sure Liz can get her own food."

I understood from the disapproving look she was giving the amount of chicken Max was putting on my plate that she wasn't just talking about my capability of serving myself, but rather that it looked like Max was trying to feed a whole school class of kids rather than one 16-year-old girl.

Max raised an eyebrow at me, the large serving fork frozen in his hand, and asked succinctly, "Is it too much?" Daring me to object.

I sighed loudly, tainted by the annoyance in his system, and tensed my mouth in an expression worthy of a sulking teenager. "At that rate, there won't be any chicken left for your family. Why even bother to cut it up? You could've just put the whole chicken on my plate instead."

Isabel breezed into the room, looking stellar as usual. "I didn't know you were a feeder, brother."

I watched the blush spread over Max's cheeks and I couldn't stop my quiet laugh.

It didn't help that Diane looked utterly confused, her gaze jumping between her children and her husband, while Mr. Evans just looked bored. Combined with my sleep deprivation, the family scene became very comical.

I bit my lower lip hard to stop my laughter from exploding and managed to send Isabel a grateful look as she gracefully floated into the chair next to me. But not before she had grabbed the fork out of Max's hand and shuffled a large part of my portion over onto her plate.

"She needs to eat," Max grumbled, though that was a generally accepted fact, and sank down next to me.

"But maybe not just chicken," Isabel suggested, rolling her beautifully dolled-up eyes at Max and emphasized her statement by reaching for the green beans. Her face softened with politeness as she asked me, "Beans?"

I swallowed. Not really. But in light of her kindness, I couldn't very well refuse. "Sure. Thanks."

Max was eyeing everything I was putting on my plate. Or rather, everything I was _skipping_ putting on my plate.

But he refrained from saying anything and even made an effort to hide his thoughts on the matter - even though he had made his opinions perfectly clear earlier - as Max's family kept up a light, ordinary conversation about Isabel's day at school, Mr. Evans' run in with a peculiar patient at today's work at the hospital, and Diane's day at her work. Apparently, she was a preschool teacher.

Max even kept his opinions to himself while I continued to mostly move the food around on my plate, my thoughts miles away. Nervousness was rearing its ugly head again. I was trying to make lists in my head, foresee what would happen at the meeting in order to prepare myself, and attempted to get myself to think happy thoughts.

But it was difficult. Even with the occasional light laughter from Isabel next to me and the warm motherly looks Diane was throwing in my direction, my internal world was black. Black as the darkest well of hopelessness.

I absent-mindedly reached for my glass of water and took a sip, my scattered mind noting that Max was barely touching his own food. I was getting too worked up, too antsy, to even take the opportunity to point out to him that if food was so important, then why wasn't _he_ eating.

Instead I let my eyes rest on the tightness of his fist resting against the white table linen cloth and tried to still the trembles of my hand so that I could succeed in holding the glass without spilling water all over myself.

He had been tuned in to my thoughts ever since our connection had re-opened (and deepened) in Hondo, but I wasn't sure how much of my thinking he was following.

Some thoughts rang more true than others, cut through the unstructured majority of the mental processes, and shot straight across the connection.

Like, _I don't think we should go_.

He glanced at me at the private thought, slowly put his fork down, and reached out to gently squeeze the lower part of my thigh.

His response was hushed, like he was talking to me out loud and he was afraid that the other members around the table would hear. _We're running out of time. We won't be able to hold Sean back much longer. Isabel's been able to distract him so far..._

I looked over at Isabel. Isabel who looked as if nothing was wrong. Isabel who looked rested and elegant while she was calmly piercing green beans with her fork. Isabel who - thank God - looked completely unharmed.

Mr. Evans had earlier hinted at Isabel 'not being able to hold Sean off any longer', something that had sneaked guilt into me. The guilt about Isabel having been forced to do something just to protect me. Protect her brother.

 _What did she do?_ I thought and Max loosened his grip on my thigh only to gently brush up the length of my upper leg - momentarily distracting my dark thoughts - before removing his hand completely.

 _Isabel can take care of herself_ , Max assured me with clear certainty.

My eyes were still trained on Isabel, which distracted her from her involvement in a conversation about the latest Jimmy Choo shoes with her mother. She must have felt me staring, as she turned to look at me and met my fearfully concerned look. Narrowing her eyes at my expression, she shot a look past me at her brother, before looking back at me. "Everything okay?"

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" I asked, my voice strained around the lump in my throat.

Concern flashed in her eyes. "Who?"

A hush had lowered itself over the table and I glanced at Diane, wondering how much I could say out loud, not wanting to upset her.

"Sean didn't hurt you, right?" Max clarified behind me in a tense voice.

Isabel looked away for the fraction of a second, making me miss something in her eyes, before she looked back at me with her face blooming into a warm smile. "You should be worried about _Sean_ getting hurt, not me."

"What are you talking about, Izzie?" Diane asked.

Isabel briefly looked at her brother in a moment of silent communication, before she turned around towards her mother. "Nothing, Mom."

"Isn't Sean the boy that..." Diane's voice trailed off as she glanced, almost guiltily, in my direction.

Mr. Evans reached out and put his hand over his wife's and squeezed it. "The boy that Liz is supposed to bond with, yes."

Diane's fear was anticipated by not only Mr. Evans as her eyes widened. Her fear was now not only for Max but also for her daughter. "What were you doing with that boy?"

No one seemed to want to answer. With guilt throbbing through my body, I squared my shoulders and said, "She was protecting me."

Isabel shot me a half-smile. "It's okay, Liz," before turning to her mother. "He was looking for Liz today, since she wasn't at school." She shrugged, indicating that the whole thing was no big deal. "I just gave him something else to think about."

I felt my heart sink into my stomach. "You...?"

Isabel looked at me, read the horrified look on my face, and surprised me by laughing before scrunching her face up in disgust. "Ew, no. I wouldn't touch that guy even with fifty iron gloves on."

"Trust her, Di," Mr. Evans said calmly, lifting the glass of water to his mouth.

I was relieved by the fact that Mr. Evans wasn't drinking any alcohol. He wouldn't only be driving us to the meeting tonight, he would need to be as level-headed as possible to support us in our case.

Diane didn't look too convinced, her eyes searching her daughter's perfect face. Apparently, Isabel's unharmed and unbothered appearance forced her to calm down.

 _Sean has always had a thing for Isabel,_ Max spoke into my mind.

"All I did was talk to him," Isabel continued. "Sitting next to him in class, making sure that he stayed on school grounds during the breaks."

Max's telepathic conversation with me sent my skin into cold prickles as he continued, _His goal in life is most likely to control you, while having Isabel on the side._

Maybe I should be relieved to hear that Sean wasn't 100% obsessed with me, but I wasn't. The idea that Sean wanted to ruin my life while not even caring enough to want to be with only me, made it worse. The feelings were unsettling and confusing. Of course I didn't want Sean to be interested in me, but at least then I would have felt wanted and desirable. Instead, Sean wanted to sleep with me only to use me and the rest of the time be with Isabel. It was like he would be 'wasting' my life - not even to stay faithful.

The notion made me into Sean's concubine. His sex slave.

I jumped in surprise as Max cradled my chin in his hand and pulled my eyes away from the rest of the table - from the conversation I was no longer paying any attention to - and lined my eyes up with his.

The blaze of desire in his darkened eyes was so strong that I had to grab onto the edge of the table to restrain the shake though my body that it elicited.

 _Don't,_ he commanded.

He leaned in and gently brushed his lips over mine, the kiss uncharacteristically innocent in light of the churning desire piercing through every emotion he was feeling.

We were not alone.

That realization only made my heart beat even faster at Max's poorly hidden intention of what he would do to me otherwise. Of all the ways he would prove to me that I was desirable. That I was not second best. That I wasn't the type of person that someone would only _settle_ for.

The lights flickered over our heads, making us slowly pull apart and meet the contemplative expression in Mr. Evans eyes, the silent observation in Diane's and the excitement in Isabel's.

Isabel's whisper was thrilled. "Dad, do you see it?"

"They're even messing with the electricity," Mr. Evans grumbled, "I wouldn't be surprised if even your mother could see it."

"See what?" Diane asked.

She was narrowing her eyes at Max and I, inclining her head to the side as if the changed angle might reveal something that everyone else seemed to be seeing.

Well, everyone except for Max and I.

Max slowly pulled his hands away from my face and sat back, looking both embarrassed and worried. "We're glowing, aren't we?"

A barely contained smile of pure excitement played on Isabel's lips, "Maybe you shouldn't kiss her."

 _Don't give him any ideas,_ I thought, glancing at Max who couldn't help but give me a faint smile.

"Not an option," Max said, without neither hesitation nor insecurity in his voice, his eyes fixed warmly on my face.

The flush was immediate and I ducked my head to avoid the stares of Max's family. Why did our relationship have to be so public? So visible? So obvious?

"Is that usual?" Diane asked. "The glow?"

"Can you see it, Mom?" Isabel asked curiously.

A soft secretive smile spread across her mouth. "I can see _a_ glow, but I'm pretty sure it's not the same one you're talking about."

I caught Isabel's eye-roll out of the corner of my eye.

"My mom: The Last Romantic," Isabel mumbled lovingly.

Diane ignored her daughter's quip and looked at me. "You make him really happy, Liz. I've never seen him this happy before."

I turned my head towards Max. He was looking at his mother, love in his eyes, and I was trying to see what she meant. What she saw.

Because it felt like Max and I had only been through misery since we'd been together. Heartbreak and pain. Max having to constantly worry about me, me constantly worrying about him. Me being scared and Max getting beaten up.

He turned those beautiful amber eyes on me, reached out to gently cradle my cheek in his hand, slowly brushed the pad of his thumb across my skin, and managed to ignite that heat in me again with his directed thoughts of, _To me it's gratitude at finally having you trust me. Gratitude at being able to remove your injuries. The feeling of finally being able to kiss you. To have you reciprocate my touch. To feel your skin, to kiss every part of you, to have you close. To watch you fall apart in my arms, watch the pleasure on your face, see the love in your eyes. To be a part of you. To be inside your mind. To share something with you that maybe no one else has ever shared with someone. A connection so deep, it makes us as one._

"You're gonna blow the lights," Isabel warned in the background as hotness coiled sharply in the center of my body and my breath froze at the top of my lungs.

"Are they talking to each other?" Diane whispered in wonderment.

 _I love you,_ Max said, slowly brushing the hair away from my face, tucking a strand behind my ear.

 _'Til death do us part_ , I reciprocated, bringing us back to our earlier moments of deep intimacy.

 _'Til death do us part_ , he sealed.

"Yes," Mr. Evans answered his wife. "It seems that way."

"That's not common, is it?" Diane asked, but I wasn't really focusing on their discussion.

I was distracted by the love Max was wrapping me up in, by our joined memories of the sexual part to our bonding, by the overwhelming feelings swirling around us both, immersing us in not just a physical need but a mental.

"Guys..." Isabel warned again as not only the light above the dining table flickered, but even the ones out in the kitchen and in the hallway.

I was vaguely aware of Isabel's annoyed loud sigh before she added, "You just killed my phone."

"It's why we need to fight for them to stay connected," Mr. Evans said. "It's why it's so important that they come to the meeting tonight. We have to make the council understand that this bond is special and shouldn't be tampered with."

Max pressed a kiss between my eyebrows and we both jumped as the light bulb exploded, the light disappearing over the table as shards of bulb rained down over the lovingly prepared meal.

As if awoken from some dream, Max and I stared at each other, our breathing equally harsh in our ears, the lights in the hallway still flickering, creating jumping shadows along the walls of the dining room.

Mr. Evans clapped his hands together, startling me to look in his direction. "Okay. Whatever you two are thinking about; Stop. Isabel, fetch a new bulb-"

"Why should I be the one to-?" Isabel whined, but stopped her complaint at the pointed look in Mr. Evans' eyes, and finished with the grumbled, "Fine," before leaving the table.

"Sorry," I mumbled to Max's parents, automatically seeking out Max's knee with my hand, folding my palm around his kneecap to draw from the warmth of his body through the denim material.

"You think they're going to let them stay bonded?" Diane asked, unmistakable hope lacing her voice.

"Just look at what they managed to do without even intending to. Just by concentrating on each other and letting themselves connect more deeply."

I had never felt so embarrassed in my whole life as I dropped my head, unable to look at the parental unit. Max's father might as well have been talking about Max and I having sex. That's how intimate our act - which had resulted in exploding light bulbs - had been, how personal and private.

And we had done it in front of Max's parents!

Max chuckled, laced his fingers with mine on top of his knee. The physical bond was slightly rustled as Isabel lightly shoved Max in the back while passing him with a new light bulb.

"No touching," she ordered and gave us both a pointed look.

I realized then that Isabel was excellent at diffusing tension, at knowing what to say to make people more comfortable. Maybe it was a result of her having grown up in a family with two dominating males, where she probably had to meddle on more than one occasion. Or maybe it was the result of her special ability to borrow powers. Maybe she had at some point borrowed an ability like that of Alex's - momentarily becoming an empath - and the consequences of that ability had lingered.

Or maybe she was just a natural at it.

She made me laugh though and, at her suggestion, I pushed Max's hand away. No touching was probably a good idea at the moment. If we didn't want to set the house on fire.

Max narrowed his eyes at me at my rejection, but the amusement at his sister's behavior was strong in his mind even though it was only barely hinted at in the twitching of his mouth.

Isabel pulled a chair out and climbed on top of it to be able to reach the lamp. "If you did irreparable damage to my phone, you owe me a new one, brother."

"Me?" Max inquired innocently. "What about Liz? It takes two to tango."

I shoved my elbow lightly into his side. "Hey!"

Isabel unscrewed the broken light bulb, not looking at Max. "Come on, Max. I might not be able to read minds, but we both know who was the instigator of all of this." She put the new bulb into the socket and started screwing it in place. "Only a guy's thoughts are dirty enough to make bulbs explode."

I squeezed my lips tightly together and averted my eyes. Heat was blazing up my cheeks. Because I knew that I wasn't all that innocent in this.

 _You're just gonna let me take the fall, aren't you?_ Max asked through the connection and I laughed quietly under my breath.

"Yep," I replied softly. No way I was going to correct Isabel about her assumptions in front of Max's parents.

Light flooded the table once again and Isabel climbed off the chair.

Diane was looking at her once beautifully decorated table with resignation. "I guess dinner's over."

There were shards everywhere.

I looked at the unfinished plate in front of me and couldn't claim to be sad about not being able to finish.

Before Max could react to this, Mr. Evans announced, "It's 6.40. We need to get going," and my heart dislodged in my chest and crashed to my feet with alarming speed.

Max gently called for my attention by brushing his knuckles slowly down the side of my face. I closed my eyes at the touch, trying to melt it firmly into my memory.

Diane's question made me open my eyes in trepidation. "Are you going as well, Iz?"

Max's hand fluttered down my shoulder, down along my arm, and threaded our fingers together, as I looked over at Isabel, waiting for her answer.

"Yes. Max needs all the support he can get."

"But you are not to express that support," Mr. Evans warned darkly. "It's too dangerous."

"Should she really come?" Max asked and I understood why he had been so quick at taking my hand. He was worried, hadn't known that Isabel would be coming along. He didn't want to have to worry about his sister too. Didn't want to put her in any danger because of him.

"She'll just be observing," Mr. Evans answered and looked sharply at his daughter. "Won't you, Isabel?"

I could tell that she wanted to roll her eyes, but considering the seriousness of the situation, she resigned to a nod. "Yes. Of course, Dad."

"Lend Liz one of your sweaters, Isabel," Diane said, rising slowly from the table. My surprised eyes noticed her paleness, the fragility of her body as she moved her eyes between her son and his bonded: me.

Diane smiled warmly at my confusion and added as means of clarification, "You look cold, sweetheart."

Isabel glanced at me. "I'll be right back."

My love for Diane increased exponentially and it wasn't until I felt it swaying me on the spot that I realized that it wasn't my love. It was Max's. His voice was grateful, but hiding the deep feelings rocking our connection well, as he mumbled, "Thank you, Mom."

"You take your warm jacket, Max," Diane instructed in response and I caught Max's eye roll interrupt the loving look he was giving his mother.

He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me up against his side. "I'm never cold, Mom."

She inhaled a shaky breath and her expression turned into one of admonishment and concern as her order left no room for objections, "Just do as I say."

Max softened. "Sure."

Mr. Evans leaned in and pecked his wife on the cheek. "We'll be back before midnight."

Her voice shook with her nervous reply, "Okay."

Isabel hurried down the stairs, handing me a soft light grey sweatshirt, before moving to grab her own jacket.

"Thanks," I mumbled. Max released his hold on me so that I could pull the sweater over my head.

I brushed my hair back from my face, having been messed up by the sweater, and opened my eyes to find Diane in front of us.

She was crying. Silent large tears rolling slowly down her cheeks.

I swallowed slowly.

She stepped up to Max and pulled him tightly into her arms. "I've loved you since the second I found out I was pregnant with you."

"Mom..." Max whispered brokenly, flickering a worried thought in my direction. Probably afraid that this would cause me to break down again.

But it didn't feel the same this time. Instead of fighting the emotional connection between Max and his mother, I let it wash over me. Let it fill the empty holes in my soul, where I was missing my own mother.

"Please come back to me," Diane hitched on a restrained sob.

Max pulled out of her arms, brushed his thumbs over his mother's wet cheeks and leaned in to place a soft kiss on her cheek. "I promise."

My heart clenched at his promise, knowing that there was no way he could make that promise.

Diane pulled Max into another hug, before she seemed to have to force herself to regain control over her emotions, took a step back, wiped her cheeks from the majority of tears and reached out to pull me into her arms.

I struggled to remain standing, to not collapse into my own tears of fear, as she hugged me close. "You too, Liz. You need to come back."

I nodded quietly against her warm cheek, but my voice couldn't hold up enough to give her a verbal reply.

"Take care of my son," Diane requested and pulled back, leaning forward to press a kiss to my cheek.

I swallowed the tears back and nodded.

Isabel stepped in between and gave her mother a tight hug. But her voice was light, once again easing the tension. "Don't wait up."

Diane gave her a guilty smile as Isabel pulled back. Isabel smiled at her mother and added, "Love you."

"Love you too, baby girl," Diane replied. "Be careful."

Isabel's face bloomed in confidence. "I always am."

"Okay," Mr. Evans interrupted, authority and calmness in his voice. "It's time to go."

Max moved his arm down the inside of mine, tightly aligning our arms together before he interlaced our fingers. He pulled me up into his side and, walking closely together, we walked through the house towards the front door.

As we exited the house, I made the mistake of looking back. Max's mother was standing in the open doorway, the contours of her body silhouetted against the warm light of the inside of the house, and her whole body was shaking. Shaking so terribly that I could see it even from several feet away. Shaking from the tears of a last goodbye.

I ripped my eyes forward and felt the cold spread through my whole body.


	59. FIFTY-NINE

_dootadoot and brokenbride - Thank you so much for the feedback!_

* * *

 **FIFTY-NINE**

My eyes sprung open as the car came to a stop and I had time to glimpse the last seconds of Max's refuge of sleep before he too blinked his eyes open. I was certain that the expression of acute trepidation and confusion in his eyes before he blinked himself back into awareness echoed the expression on my own face as I pushed myself out of my curled up position next to Max in the backseat.

"Did you sleep?" I asked, my mouth dry and the start of a headache hammering at the front of my skull.

My body was protesting against my lack of sleep by pounding my heart against my ribs, already trying to pull me back down into the dreamless state of exhaustion.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering to the front of the car and next did a survey of our surroundings before turning his attention on me. His arm was still around my shoulders, where he had placed it just minutes before the monotone drone of the car had tempted me into sleep, and he used it now to press my side into his in something of a sideway hug.

I could see my own exhaustion reflected on his face as he nodded slowly before yawning. He was just about to answer me, when a voice from the front seat interrupted us.

"Listen up."

I took a deep breath, shook my head slightly to try and clear it, and met the eyes of Mr. Evans as he looked at us over his right shoulder, between the front seats.

I didn't want to look around us, didn't want to take in our surroundings. I knew that we were parked outside of the house in Hondo, where Max and I had created some of our most beautiful memories. But right now, those memories were very far from my mind. Right now, this house only symbolized white blinding terror.

My accelerated heart rate - from having been woken up from a state of deep sleep - was still going strong, now fueled by fear and nervousness.

Max's fingers were digging into my shoulder as his father continued, "They don't know that you're here, so I'll go inside and break it to them easily. Prepare them." He looked to his daughter next to him in the passenger seat. "Isabel will come with me and she'll return for you when it's time."

Isabel's eyes connected with mine and a slow tentative and encouraging half-smile spread across her lips. I tried my best to return the smile, to signal my gratitude about her trying to comfort me, but I had a feeling that I was failing the task horribly.

"Okay," Max confirmed. His strong and confident voice had me looking at him. Had my eyes trace the profile of his strong jaw, his straight nose, and the softness of his full hair. I could even see the beautiful length of his eyelashes silhouetting against the dim light from the lamp outside of the front door to the house.

There was the hint to a soft smile as he glanced at me, before adding, "We'll wait right here."

The pause that followed had me look forward to Mr. Evans again, finding him looking at his son with a combination of sad contemplation and wistfulness, before he said, "See you in there."

And even though the words were far away from the typical declaration of love, the tone of his voice said it all. Max's father was letting his son know just how much this was frightening him, just how much he loved his son, just how much he wanted to protect him.

"Yeah," Max whispered, the break in his voice revealing that Max had gotten the message too.

I was listening to the thumping of my heart against the inside of my ribcage while Mr. Evans and Isabel stepped out of the car. With the simultaneous closing of both front doors, Max and I were left alone.

And with Mr. Evans' face recently having shown an unknown range of compassion, I reached for my small handbag and retrieved my phone. I hadn't looked at it for almost 24 hours. I had been otherwise occupied.

Now, when I pressed the home button, the phone greeted me with blackness. It was dead.

I barely had time to open my mouth to speak, before Max put his own phone on top of mine in my hands with a quiet, "Use mine."

I looked up at him, noticed recognition and awareness of my thoughts in his intense eyes. I had - again - forgotten that he could read my thoughts.

"I just need to talk to him," I started to explain, but was interrupted by Max leaning forward and pressing his lips to my forehead.

"Of course," he whispered, while pulling back.

 _Before it's too late_ , my dark thoughts whispered.

"What's the cover story?" I asked, avoiding to look at him, knowing that facing the love and concern displayed on his face right now might make me break down.

Max's response was immediate and simply delivered. "You spent last night at a friend's place, studying. Since it was so late by the time you were finished, you decided to stay over at Alex's, because it was closer to his house than to yours. When you woke up this morning, you had a fever and you decided to skip school. You've been trying to study even with your fever and Alex's family has been looking after you since they got home from work. We haven't leaked any rumors about any possible nightly plans - to cover for the meeting, so that's up to you."

I nodded my understanding before pressing the numbers to my father's cell phone into Max's keypad. My dad had had the same number for as long as he'd owned a cell phone, which was probably the only reason why I knew his number by heart. My mom and dad's numbers were the only ones I had ever been able to memorize.

Max didn't question or object when I scooted slightly away from him while pressing the ringing phone to my ear and waiting for my father to pick up.

My connection to my father was private. Even too private to share with Max.

My hand tightened around Max's phone with every unanswered tone and my heart dropped as his answering machine kicked in.

"Hi. You've reached the phone of Jeffrey Parker. I'm unable to take your call right now, but please leave a message or try again later."

My eyes had drifted close as I had focused on his voice and my own voice was thick with emotions as I started leaving him a message. "Hi, Dad. It's me." A breath trembled in my chest before I continued, "I'm just letting you know that I might not be home tonight either. I'm still not feeling very well and, to be honest, Alex's parents are spoiling me with home cooked chicken soup and Netflix. And I'm still trying to study for that stupid exam. It's killing-" my voice tripped and I swallowed and cleared my throat before continuing, "-ki-killing me. Sorry for not calling you today. I don't know if you've been trying to reach me; my phone is dead. Alex doesn't have a charger for my phone." I realized that I was rambling, my nervousness finally finding an outlet. "He has one of those androids, you know. But you can call Alex's phone-," I paused slightly, glancing at Max who was nodding his affirmation to my suggestion, "-if you need to leave me a message. Don't worry; Alex is taking good care of me." I paused and bit hard into my bottom lip to stop the tremble that was trying to tempt me into crying. "Don't forget to eat, okay? Even if I'm not home." I took a deep breath, pushing my tears back even further and added in a barely audible whisper, "I love you, Dad. Always." A sniffle broke through my voice and I added quickly, "No matter what happens," before hanging up.

I looked up at Max, trying to hold my worry back, and rested in the darkness of his eyes for a second before asking, "Do you know where he is?"

"Your dad?" Max asked.

I nodded. "I just..." I gulped, my eyes dropping to the phone in my hand. "I just really needed to talk to him.

"Call Alex," Max suggested gently. "Ask him to go check on your dad."

I inhaled deeply and nodded, feeling a bit comforted by Max's suggestion. It was a plan. I liked plans. It provided some sort of direction and a (false) sense of control.

"Good idea," I mumbled and turned Max's phone back on. "Do you have his phone number?"

Tingles similar to electricity tickled my fingers as he reached out and gently removed the phone from my hands. I watched his hand move him through the contacts on the phone and connected the call to Alex before he handed the phone back to me.

"It's ringing," he mumbled and put the phone to my ear in a nod. I reached up and took over the phone from him, pressing my ear against the ringing tone.

"Max," Alex's voice greeted, with a strong confidence I had rarely heard. Alex had never used that clear and self-assured tone with me.

"No," I said, "It's Liz."

There was a pause, before Alex's extended sigh crossed the telephone line and there was an warm friendly softness to his voice as he said, "Oh, hi."

"Hi," I said back, feeling a bit out of my comfort zone. I still hadn't really reaffirmed Alex's and my friendship since I had realized that he was an alien who were assigned to protect me because I was an important asset to his alien society.

"How are you?" Alex asked with hurriedness to his voice that was a lot more like the Alex I was used to instead of the confident even tone he had greeted me with when he had believed me to be Max. "Are you with Max?"

"Yeah," I replied. "We're about to go into the meeting."

"Right," Alex breathed and I thought I could hear weariness in his voice. Something that gave me hope that he was still my friend. That despite of his 'assignment', he was in the end most and foremost my friend. "How're you holding up?"

"Oh," I sighed in mock indifference, trying to adopt some sense of braveness. "I'm seconds away from having a heart attack, but other than that..."

At my confession, Max repositioned his arm around the back of my shoulders and pulled me back into his side. I curled up against his warmth, my cheek against his shoulder, the phone still pressed to my ear, as Max rested his lips to the top of my head.

Closing my eyes, I listened to Alex's voice, "We're doing everything we can to protect you. You know that, right?"

I nodded, knowing that Alex couldn't see me, but I had a sense that he knew anyway as he continued, "Max will protect you with his life, if it came to that."

Fear struck my heart blindly, causing my breath to hitch. "I know." Which was something I really didn't want. The thought of Max getting hurt was even more frightening than the thought of myself being in danger.

"Isabel will protect both of you," Alex continued, obviously trying to make me feel better. It was in his nature, after all. Even though his empathic abilities couldn't reach across the telephone line, he could always use his voice to try and calm me. Using his 'cool ghetto'-voice (as Alex used to call it), Alex added, "And Philip is the boss."

I laughed softly at this, my laughter weak and tired even though I really appreciated his efforts. "Thanks, Alex."

"Have you arrived at the meeting? Are you waiting outside or something?" Alex continued.

"Yes," I answered simply. "Max's father is in there trying to soften them up, I guess."

"Okay," Alex said quietly, giving me the impression that he was afraid too.

Clearing my throat, I forced myself to get down to business. "I kinda need a favor."

Alex's laugh was soft and warm. "If I'd been given a dollar every time you've said that to me..."

I grimaced. "Sorry..."

"Don't sweat it," Alex said. "I love doing you favors. Even if it happens to be a part of my job description."

 _It is?_ I wondered silently. Of course it was. He was essentially my bodyguard.

"Hmm," I said slowly. "I'll have to remember that."

Alex groaned. "Said too much, didn't I?"

I brushed my cheek against Max's shoulder and nodded, "Yup."

He sighed in mock resignation. "What can I do for you today, my lady?"

The seriousness of the situation was over me in the blink of a second. "I need you to check on my dad. He's not answering his phone."

"He was fine an hour ago," Alex said calmly, making me relax some. Alex was already keeping track of my father, which was a great relief. "But I'll check in on him again."

"Thank you, Alex," I said emphatically.

"I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"My phone is dead, so call Max's," I said, hoping that Alex would get back to me soon.

"Sure," Alex said, his confident affirmation followed by a short pause before, "Thread carefully, Lizzie. Try not to be yourself too much, okay?"

I wanted to laugh at him and teasingly ask him what was wrong with how I was, but there was nothing humorous in the situation. I knew what he was asking; don't talk back to the aliens, they might kill you. Be polite and adjustable. An obedient shadow of yourself.

Apparently, tonight's recipe for survival included ingredients such as acquisition, exposure, vulnerability, loss of control and submission.

The recipe for one lousy cake.

"Yeah," I replied dimly and added, "Thank you, Alex."

"Always my pleasure," he said warmly before we disconnected the call.

"You okay?" Max asked immediately and I shook my head, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from crying.

"Your dad's fine," Max tried to console me.

I nodded silently, the unshed tears burning my eyes, as I looked between the front seats and through the windshield. As I did, I saw movement to the right and directed my eyes to see Isabel approach the car.

My insides tightened painfully and a large tremble went through me.

It was time.

Alex never had a chance to get back to me before the meeting.


	60. SIXTY

_Okay. This is one of those longer chapters, but after having "waited" for the meeting for so long, I thought you might be needing the whole meeting - not meeting part 1 and 2 ;-) Thank you so much for reading!_

 _brokenbride - I hope you survived the wait ;-) They are entering the meeting... Thank you so much for reading and leaving feedback!_

* * *

 **SIXTY**

" _I'll be dimming my side of the connection, okay? So that you'll be able to focus. To keep you alert."_

Those had been Max's final words, spoken out loud but in a hushed whisper, before we crossed the threshold to the house. The blood in my veins had turned into acid from the frantic bursts of adrenaline, my back was hurting from being held in a straight line that would have made any architect delirious with happiness, and my legs were stiff with numbing fear.

But my mind was sharp. With Max's thoughts and emotions dimmed, I was able to gather my energy and focus on my surroundings.

The front door immediately opened to the large open-planned room where Max, 24 hours earlier (almost to the minute), had made me tremble with restrained desire and fed me overly sweetened pancakes of heaven. I visualized his smiles and his playfulness as he had moved around the kitchen and remembered the touches, the flirtatious moves and the heat from the side of his thigh pressing up against mine under the table.

It didn't even feel like the same house.

The dining table, where Max had stacked pancake after pancake on my plate, had been moved to the far end of the room. In front of the table were two smaller tables, with empty chairs on just one side of the table, facing the large table. The main table was also only occupied on one side, the chairs positioned in a manner that let its occupants look out over the smaller tables.

Like a court room. But without an audience. Without any witnesses.

I shivered. This was not a meeting.

This was a hearing.

Lights were off, except for two floor lamps. One by the large table and one between the two smaller. All the curtains were drawn. And the silence was deafening.

The second Max and I crossed the threshold to the main entrance, Max put his hand to the front of my hip and guided me slightly behind him. Normally, I would have objected to being semi-hidden behind someone. I didn't like to hide. I didn't like how inferior and incapable it made me feel and look. I had been raised to hold my head high, square my shoulders and to not let anyone run me over.

Instead I found myself bitterly swallowing the values from my upbringing and stomping my pride to a wet stain on the floor. In this environment, I was no safer than if I had stepped out right in front of a whole battalion of soldiers with fully loaded weapons pointed straight at me.

I had to accept the fact that Max had something I didn't. Alien powers.

While the right part of my body was shielded behind Max's, my head was completely exposed. I needed to see as much as possible. It gave me some sense of control and an inkling of security.

Maybe if I had known what I would see, I might have chosen to close my eyes against all of this. But by the time I realized that, it was too late.

The five men seated behind the main table, staring at us seemingly without blinking, were not scary-looking. There were no evil weapons of torture positioned on the table surface in front of them. They were, by appearance, human. For a second, I had feared the possibility that they might have shed their human 'disguises' for the occasion.

Instead, I realized that the fact that they looked completely normal was even more frightening. Dressed in monochromatic suits, they looked like they were attending a business meeting.

But compared to an ordinary business meeting, blackness surrounded them. Yes. Blackness. I squinted my eyes, in an attempt to help me see better, and realized that I was actually seeing black - like a halo - around the outlines of - specifically - the white-haired man in the middle.

The other men, seated in symmetrical numbers on each side of the 'Dark Man', were surrounded by more colors. But they were dulled; lacking in contrast and partly desaturated.

Not like Max. Nothing like Max. Nothing like the colors I had seen surrounding Max last night.

I swallowed, gave in to the need to blink when my eyes had almost dried out, and when I opened my eyes again the 'colors' were gone.

On the white-haired man's right was the Sergeant. He didn't hide his disgust and venom particularly well, which had me quickly look to the person seated to his right - Michael Guerin's father. His expression was blank, but his eyes were sharp, his gaze attentive and piercing.

Shielded in the shadows of the wall next to Mr. Guerin I could make out the shape of Alex's father. A biting sense of disappointment and betrayal heated my heart alongside a flash of anger. Even though I knew, by now, that Mr. Whitman was an alien, it was difficult to see a man that I had been around for most of my life standing - hiding - in the shadows of this menacing environment.

I forced my breath to be quiet and inconspicuous as I - quickly - looked past the man in the center to the red-haired man on his left side. A shudder of pure fear shook me as I realized that it was the Mayor.

The Mayor of Roswell was seated in a room with aliens, about to participate in a discussion about our fate.

In public, the green-eyed short man, with the beginning hint of a beer belly, was a very well-loved man. He always seemed to be close to a smile and memories of him hugging children flowed bitterly through my head.

It was actually odd that I had been able to recognize the man, considering that he wasn't signaling any of those characteristics right now. The redness to his hair and the green tint to his eyes made him look feral as he stared demandingly at Max and I, currently meeting my gaze straight on.

I could feel his eyes digging into me as Max's sharp order practically shouted in my head, _Look away!_

Having quickly gotten used to the quietness of my own mind, the way it had been pre-Max, his sudden voice inside my head had me tensing and instinctively snap my head away.

I realized then that Max had never had the time to finish telling me about all the people at the meeting. What could the Mayor do? What had elicited that reaction in Max?

But Max didn't, for once, respond to my musings. Without his input into my brain, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he planning what he would say? Was he trying to get a handle on the situation, just like me? Was he scared?

Only a few seconds had passed since we had entered the room. I glanced at the black-haired man on the Mayor's left side (careful to avoid looking at the Mayor again), observing that I didn't recognize him, before I fisted my hands and lowered my head, trying to take a deep breath and still my heart, which was trying to jump out of my chest.

Max had stopped next to one of the small tables, the one positioned to the right, and Isabel was reflecting his stance, flanking my left side. I found myself guarded between the Evans siblings.

With my mind on high alert, my senses sharpened, energy pulsating through every detail of my essence and being almost freakishly in tune with Max's body in front of mine, the Dark Man's voice made me jump as it broke the heavy silence of the dim room.

"Thank you, Isabel."

I looked up and observed with trepidation a transferred look between Isabel and Max, before Isabel stepped away from us, joining her father to the side of the room.

It was not until I followed her take her place next to her father that I noticed Sean.

Even though Max had informed me that Sean quite possibly would be attending the meeting, trembles still rushed through me at the sight of him standing there. He was standing stiffly, like a soldier at attention. But in contrast to the respectful forward stare of a soldier awaiting orders, Sean's eyes were burning as they brazenly stared at Max and I.

The realization that this was the first time I had openly stood next to Max - especially in front of my 'intended' - hit me full-force, making me feel guilty on principle. Like I really was a criminal. Like I really was breaking the law.

"Max-"

My eyes snapped back to the obvious man in charge - the darkest of the men. The one I could only presume was Command. The man with royal blood. The man with the power of being connected to a gaea without actually having to be connected to one. The man with hair as white as snow and eyes as blue as clear ice water.

Command's voice was deep and even. Without inflection. Without warmth or even interest.

Dead. It was dead.

"We didn't expect your company."

The shivers ran coldly down my spine and the most primal parts of my brain told me to _RUN_. It took a monumental effort to actually stay put. To not turn around and hope to be able to outrun these 'people'.

"Sir," Max said, his voice bearing unmistakable respect. But even through the turned down emotions on his end of the connection, I could feel how much he _didn't_ respect this man. "We deeply apologize for the inconvenience. I take it that my father has informed you of our reason for attending your meeting tonight?"

Command's eyes shifted from Max to my face and I found myself suddenly unable to move in the control of his stare.

Blazing anger rushed through the connection, delivered by Max, and even though I found myself unable to turn my head, I could see how Max's jaw tightened out of the corner of my eye.

"Yes," Command answered tonelessly. "He has."

"Please, sir," Max said, the barely controlled anger making his voice waver. "Release her."

 _Of course_ , I thought with growing alarm. Command was controlling me. Using me like Sean had. Like I was born to be taken advantage of. Neither of them seemed above taking control of me as they wished.

There was no movement on Command's face. Nothing to reveal what he would do. Suddenly I was just myself again, my control having been handed back to me, and Command was back to looking at Max. Like I had just imagined him messing with my motor functions just now.

"So what your father is telling us is true then? You experienced my control over her just now first-hand? You have bonded with Elizabeth Parker." Command looked back at me and continued in his almost robotic tone of voice, "You have bonded with a gaea. One that was not appointed to you."

There was a pause in which Max hesitated. Maybe only because he wanted to make sure that he didn't speak too soon and accidentally interrupt Command, because Max's voice bore no hesitation as he confirmed, "Yes."

Command leaned back in his chair, ice-blue eyes not revealing anything, as he said, "Interesting," without sounding the least interested.

"Sir," the black-haired man I couldn't place, seated next to the Mayor, said in a tone of utter respect. "They are emitting energy."

 _The glow_ , I realized. They were talking about the glow.

"Yes," Command stated.

In a way, I wished that Command would be the boastful, narcissistic and condescending villain you usually saw in movies. The one that would talk and talk, while almost cheerfully taunting their victim, happily demonstrating their power over their sufferer and almost signaling that they found pleasure in their prey not knowing what would happen next.

At least that would give you something to react to. It would show some emotions, even if they were fake and masochistically exaggerated.

Instead, Command was empty. There were no feelings, neither on his face nor in his voice. For a human, like me, it made it difficult to know how to respond. It created an insecurity in which I wasn't sure if I should be frightened, uncomfortable or just frankly apathetic. It was like a horror movie without the building theatrical music to guide your emotions. Instead of you tensing at the increasing violin strokes, you were waiting in silent limbo, expecting anything to happen at any time.

His eyes were like two empty pools of darkness. It was like talking to a dead person. Not that I knew what that was like, but I could certainly envision it at this point.

His mouth was set in a neutral horizontal line as he asked Max, "How long ago did you bond with her?"

I realized then that Max was much stronger than I thought he was. Not even I, who was standing so close to him that I was feeling the heat from his body against mine, could see anything that exposed the fear he must feel in his stance. He appeared completely neutral, completely willing to answer any questions the council might have.

"On the morning of the death of gaea Nancy Parker, sir."

My blood chilled and I swallowed back the nausea.

"Ms. Parker was critically injured in the fire, and I saw it as my responsibility as a healer to save the next gaea, sir."

I refrained from looking at the back of Max's head, from looking at him at all. I fought to keep my face neutral. I knew that what Max was saying was not completely true. I knew that his reasons for saving me that morning had very little to do with my role as a gaea and his responsibility towards the alien society. And everything to do with his feelings for me.

No one on the council had moved a muscle. They were eerily still.

I concentrated on not throwing up. The fear was suffocating me. I felt utterly threatened in this environment. Not even Max's presence could calm me.

"Which is your duty," Command acknowledge tonelessly and looked away from us towards the wall where Mr. Evans, Sean and Isabel were standing. "Philip. Please enlighten the council as to the standard healing protocol."

"Of course, sir," Mr. Evans said with a slight tip of his head, and without looking in our direction, stepped up in front of the council. His voice was even and almost as toneless as Command as he informed, "Deep healing on occasion requires a connection to be formed. This is less essential the more experienced the healer becomes. My son," he paused and I found myself wishing that I could see his face instead of his back, "had at the point of healing Elizabeth Parker not reached that level of healing and had to form a connection with-"

"Yes," Command interrupted. It was amazing how he could interrupt everything in the room even though his voice didn't change in volume. "The specific healing of Ms. Parker by your son is irrelevant. I need you to inform us of the standard procedure."

"Of course, sir," Mr. Evans said, not sounding chastened or even angered. The lack of emotions at this meeting was slowly draining me. "I apologize, sir."

"Continue," Command uniformly instructed.

"If a connection is formed during a healing, it is immediately broken after the termination of the healing," Mr. Evans informed.

"What if the subject is human?" the Sergeant asked. My eyes connected with his dark eyes as I looked over at him. At that moment, the look in his eyes reminded me of his son. Predatory.

Mr. Evans didn't answer immediately and I got the feeling that the question might elicit a reply that might harm Max's and my 'case'.

"The memory is to be wiped of the incident," Mr. Evans replied.

"Even if it's a gaea?" the Sergeant asked.

"Yes," Mr. Evans answered clearly.

Command picked up the questioning by saying, "Thank you, Philip", which I've learned by now was the way the man with the milky-colored hair dismissed people.

His blank eyes moved back to Max and I, and he once again addressed Max. "Max. Inform the council of the events pertaining to the healing of Elizabeth Parker."

I saw Max raise his chin and I automatically hooked my finger into one of the loops of the back of his jeans, letting my knuckles rest on the lower part of the small of his back. Since he wasn't even holding my hand, I suspected that Max had concluded that any physical contact between us was to be avoided.

But his decision couldn't smother the need I had to be connected to him. Even if it was just to hold onto a piece of his clothing.

"Ms. Parker's injuries were extensive. She had third degree burns on 90% of her body and her lungs were collapsing due to heavy smoke inhalation."

"Get to the point," the Sergeant interrupted with a bored voice.

I chilled at the lack of empathy as my injuries were addressed. They really didn't care. Really didn't.

A mild wave of anger floated through the connection from Max and I knew that the feeling must be intense to slip through the damper Max had put on the connection. He didn't appreciate their indifference to my injuries either.

But Max's voice revealed nothing of his anger as he continued, "Of course, sir. I had to open a connection to Ms. Parker; the injuries were too severe for me to perform a mere superficial healing. The injuries were, in fact, so comprehensive that I was drained and rendered unconscious."

"Before you could wipe her memory and break the connection?" Command asked, in something that sounded more like a statement than a clarifying question.

"Correct, sir."

"How convenient," the Mayor said, but after Max's sharp order in my head earlier, I abstained from looking at the provider of that sarcastic comment.

"I presume I should address you then, Ms. Parker," Command said slowly and looked straight at me. Nervousness exploded in my chest and for the first time I saw Max, out of the corner of my eye, tense next to me.

I tried to swallow past the dryness of my throat, but my voice was a breaking whisper as I got out, "Yes, sir?"

Unconsciously, I pressed the back of my hand against the small of Max's back, needing the support from him more than ever.

"Were you healed to the point of Max passing out?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"What were your actions in that situation?" Command continued.

My voice had gathered some strength with the protective memory of vulnerable Max in my arms after he had just sacrificed his own energy to supply me with life. "I called Max's father."

"Uh-huh," Command breathed slowly. "What next?"

I took a deep breath before replying, "Mr. Evans came and picked Max up."

Command stared at me. Coldness piercing into my very soul. Two long seconds passed before he turned to Mr. Evans. "Philip. Did you erase Ms. Parker's memory upon retrieving your son?"

"He didn't know I had been healed," I said quickly, the blood draining from my face as Command snapped his eyes back to me and I stuttered in afterthought, "Sir."

"I'm speaking to Mr. Evans right now, Ms. Parker."

My body trembled with fear and I nodded. I wouldn't have been able to form a word even if I had wanted to.

"Max was badly burnt. Ms. Parker looked unharmed, her clothes unburnt. I believed in the girl's account of not having been hurt. That the reason to Max's unconscious state was because of his own injuries."

"You did not connect with Ms. Parker and search her mind to verify this?" the Mayor asked.

"My son was badly hurt," Mr. Evans emphasized. "I wanted to get him out of there as quickly as possible to tend to his injuries."

"The loving father," the Sergeant snarled.

"Hm," Command voiced and I hated that cold single syllable of declaration more than the Sergeant's acidic jab.

"Did you seek out Ms. Parker after having tended to your son's injuries, in order to verify what she might have seen? What she might have experienced? To amend any issues in her memory, to prevent her from possibly telling any other human what she had encountered?" Command asked.

My heart slowly sank to my feet. I knew then that this would never work. They were out to hang us. Even Mr. Evans was starting to hang loose. How could I have missed earlier, that Mr. Evans had been protecting Max? It was so clear now. As clear (and suspicious) as it must look to the council. There were so many things that Mr. Evans had let Max and I 'get away with'.

"I did not," Mr. Evans replied.

"Hm," Command acknowledged again. "In other words, Elizabeth Parker was left with the knowledge of Max Evans healing her?"

"Something I didn't know at the time," Mr. Evans clarified and then added, "Yes, sir."

"And no one attempted to break the bond?" Command continued.

"Repetitive attempts were unsuccessful, sir," Max explained.

But I knew that was a modification of the truth. Max had actually never on his own tried to break our bond. He had wanted _me_ \- a human ignorant of such matters - to break it, because he (as I've later come to realize) never wanted the bond to be broken. Just like the first time we had bonded, as kids. When he had hold onto me and the bond for eleven months.

"And again, no one rectified this or enlightened the council about the problem?" Command asked.

"In the meantime, a human being - an important gaea - has been walking around with the knowledge of our society," the Mayor stated impassively.

"She can be trusted," Max tried. "She has not told any humans. Besides, she was to be let in on our society later anyway."

"Speaking of which," Command said and turned to the man on his right. "Isn't this gaea the one intended for your son?"

He was making fun of the situation, I was sure of it. They all knew that I was intended for Sean. They must know.

"Yes," the Sergeant answered and looked at us coldly. "She is."

"My dear friend, would you be so kind as to inform the human in the room of the rules applying to our gaeas, as she might not know them?" His request was made even more frightening as his voice remained monotone even in light of the supposed 'friendly request'.

Sean's father, Steven Carter, fixed his eyes with mine, making me swallow slowly. Twice. There was not a word to describe the look in his eyes. I had never seen it on any human being before. It was more than darkness. It was more than hatred. It was not even disgust, condescension or belittlement.

It made my body slowly shut down. Like I was being slowly lowered into water of sub-zero temperatures, my whole body tensing against the freezing sensation and my breathing picking up in the natural response of fight-or-flight. Obviously leaning more towards flight than fight.

"I'd be delighted to," the Sergeant replied. The account that followed was robotic, a mere dispassionate stating of facts. "The gaea gene is passed down within a small percentage of the female bloodline of the human population. If the mother bears the gene, the likelihood of her female offspring to inherit the gene is 93.2%. On the day of the new prospective gaea's first birthday, tests are performed to establish if the gene has been inherited. If the tests are positive, the new gaea is assigned to the male child of a high member of the Antarian military."

 _Antarian_ , my mind repeated silently - unfamiliar with the word - before the Sergeant continued.

"Specific tests are made to ascertain a favorable match between the gaea and the Antarian. In childhood, a protector is assigned to the gaea, befriending her. The gaea is repeatedly evaluated during her upbringing to assess her development, her strength, her capacity and to gradually tie her to her assigned Antarian."

The Sergeant narrowed his eyes and I had to struggle to not step completely behind Max. "The gaea _will_ devote her energy and her life, to a degree chosen by her intended, to the Antarian community. It is the duty of each Antarian to uphold the protection of the gaea due to the importance of her role in our community."

The Sergeant released my eyes and looked to Max, his voice hardening, "Discounting protection and healing, the gaea is _off-limits_ to every other Antarian except her intended. Suspicious interactions with the gaea is to be punished. _Intimate_ relations of any kind is punishable by death."

My heart froze as I stopped breathing.

" _Creating a bond_ with a gaea who is intended for someone else..." the Sergeant left the rest unspoken as he slowly shook his head in grave disapproval.

"Sir, if I may speak," Mr. Evans said quietly and respectfully from his side of the room.

Command look to Max's father and nodded slowly. "You may."

Mr. Evans stepped back into the center of the room. "I would like to remind the council that the bond was created during a healing, to save the gaea from a certain death. Circumstances made it difficult for Max to break that bond."

"The council is pleased by Max's decision to protect the gaea, but until you can come up with anything other than excuses for not upholding our laws of secrecy post that incident, the actions of young Mr. Evans are to be punished accordingly."

A tremble started in my knees and I felt my legs start to give. All energy seemed to pour out of me at the thought of Max being punished.

His arm immediately moved around my waist as I started gravitating towards the floor and pressed my side into his. Him finally touching me made revitalized power flow back into me and I could almost instantly straighten back into my full length beside him.

I turned my head to look at him, finding his eyes already on my profile. His eyes were dark and sad, deep and filled with torment. The look stabbed into the center of my heart and a gasp tumbled over my lips before he looked away, towards the executioners in front of us.

I saw Mr. Evans glance at his son, before he bowed his head reverentially to the council and withdrew to his position by the right wall.

Now what?

The heat from Max's fingertips digging in the side of my waist was spreading throughout my whole body and I decided to focus on that sensation. Focus on the points where we were physically connected.

And then the meager light from the floor lamps started flickering.

My reaction was to pull away from Max, wanting to stop whatever I knew that we were causing, but Max only tightened his hold on me, slowly edging our connection open. Like inching a closed door open.

Feeling parts of him again, feeling the warmth of his love and protectiveness through our special connection - the connection that was just ours - made my body come alive. I hadn't known it had been close to dying, succumbing to the darkness, before Max's life force and capacity for deep love shot light through my soul.

My eyes drifted closed, I momentarily forgot where I was, as I focused on him. On my beautiful alien. Catching onto every sliver of emotion he was offering me, gathering them up in my heart and letting them warm me up.

I failed to notice the light flicking out behind my closed eyelids, but was brought back to reality by the collective gasp.

My eyes snapped open to find the room covered in darkness.

Except for a dim golden light around my body. Around Max's.

I looked down at us, at the visible field of energy slowly moving further out from our bodies and then moving closer, in a sensual slow flow. Like it was pulsating comfortably with our heartbeats.

I could finally see it. What everyone else was seeing. In the darkness of the room, we stood out like a - in Isabel's words - Christmas tree.

I glanced up at Max and saw the exposed fascination in his eyes as he saw it, too. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to smile at me.

But before that happened, Command's voice rang through the darkness. "You have not only bonded through healing."

The pulsating motion of our glow stilled along with our breaths as we looked towards the darkened row of members of the council.

Before I realized that Max was supposed to answer this, he had started to speak, "No. We have deepened the bond."

"How?" Command asked, even though I was pretty sure they knew exactly how.

My eyes were slowly getting used to the darkness around us, especially as our glow was now flickering as the lamps had done earlier, and dimming and dulling along with our darkening thoughts and feelings.

I slowly looked at each of the men in the room, feeling slightly protected in the dimness, and lastly reached the right wall, where Max's father, Isabel and Sean were standing.

The glow disappeared quickly, like someone had switched it off, as my eyes found Sean's.

"Through copulation," Max replied.

I didn't have time to reflect over how wrong that sounded. How that word did nothing to describe what Max and I had experienced.

Because my eyes were still on Sean and even in the darkness I could see his eyes gleam and turn into dangerous stormy pools.

Maybe it was because Sean had tried to link our minds together and that he had already managed to manipulate mine. Or maybe it was just some kind of intuition.

But before I became consciously aware of the danger, before I could translate that danger through my bond to Max, my body had read Sean's intention and in the second that he raised his hand and directed energy out of his body through that raised medium, across the room, towards Max, I had ripped myself out of Max's hold, stepped in front of him - into the line of fire - and had absorbed the blast in my chest.

It felt like being electrocuted.

I'm pretty sure my heart stopped for a second as my legs crumbled underneath my weight. Something warm and zinging (like being electrocuted again) shot through me and next I could feel my heart again. It was struggling, beating in irregular fibrillation as I slumped back against Max.

The sounds of the room were fading in and out as my body started sliding down Max's front, my legs not working anymore. I was vaguely aware of Max's arm around my waist, holding me up as he attempted to angle me behind his body. His emotions were steamrolling through my mind, but I couldn't listen. I couldn't get my brain to work.

I registered the roar of pain and pure wrath, before everything blacked out.

I must have been out only for a moment, because Max was still holding me when I returned to consciousness. And that voice was still screaming.

Dimly, I recognized the owner of that voice now - even though I had never heard it like that before.

Max.

Max's anger was burning through my semi-conscious body.

I couldn't see anything, couldn't keep my eyes open. But when I felt him start to release his grip on me, a burst of energy originating from my willpower struggled to find my voice.

"No," I protested in a whisper.

 _Don't let me go. Max. Don't let me go_.

In my exhausting moment of sheer panic I registered Max saying, "Take her, Dad. Please, help her."

His panic echoed mine. But for different reasons. I felt foreign hands around my waist pulling me away from Max's warmth. I threw my arm out, trying to hold onto his even when my body was failing me.

I managed to grab onto his arm and I curled my fingers into his underarm. My voice was garbled as I got out in desperation, "Max", before I lost my hold and was pulled up against a strong body.

"Stay with me, Elizabeth."

I recognized the voice as that of Philip Evans and my last thread of energy faded. My breaths were shallow and faint in my chest and my heart was skipping as I was being lowered to the floor.

Mr. Evans placed one hand against my head and pressed the other one against my abdomen. My body briefly arched off the floor in a sharp bow as he initiated feeding me healing energy.

That's when I became aware of the commotion around me. Of the raised voices. Of the furniture scraping against the linoleum floor. Of the screams and the crackling sounds that I couldn't quite identify.

With every burst of energy being fed into my body, the details of my surroundings sharpened. By the time I snapped my eyes opened and found Mr. Evans looking down at me, I was already trying to get my feet under me and reclaim control over my body.

"Elizabeth," Mr. Evans warned. "Stay down."

"No," I protested, but my mind wanted more than my body was able to provide in the wake of the burst of lethal energy that Sean had just shot at my body. And with Mr. Evans holding me down, I only managed to raise my head and shoulders off the floor.

Enough to see Max being wrestled to the floor by four grown men while Sean was slumped over by the wall, and a screaming Isabel was being held back by Alex's father. Isabel was desperately trying to reach her brother.

Pain rippled through me again - Max's pain this time - before the connection went cold.

"Noooooooo!" I screamed, my eyes desperately on Max as he was being pressed down into the floor.

I couldn't tell if he was still conscious or if the lack of our connection was a result on his part - him deliberately blocking me.

" _Maaax!_ " I cried, my shoulders hurting from straining against Mr. Evans' hold as I tried to see if Max was moving or not.

I briefly looked at Max's father and wondered, in a growing panic, if he would just stand by and let them kill his son.

"Help him," I hissed at him, with every ounce of energy I could muster. "Help him."

Mr. Evans turned serious eyes on me and lowered his voice, "I can't intervene. I'm trying to keep you safe." His expression was pointed, like he was trying to tell me something more. Something that couldn't be said out loud in the present company.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Forget about me! I'm not the one in danger."

Mr. Evans shook his head. "But you are. Just as much as my son." He swallowed and looked towards his son. "I was afraid this might happen. It would have been better without all of this drama, but Sean Carter is not known for being calm and collected."

With his words ringing through my head I watched two men pick Max up and drag his frighteningly unresponsive body between them. My mind flashed to the early morning outside of my burning home, when Max had risked his own life, draining himself, to heal me. When his unconscious body had rested across my lap before he had been dragged - much like now - away by - to me - unknown men.

"Calm down," Mr. Evans hushed angrily, in a tone that Max would have used with me. Anger out of fearful concern.

But his admonishment came too late. With Max removed from the room, Command turned his empty light-blue eyes on me and in quick steps that seemed very inhuman in nature, he came to kneel in front of me.

And before I had time to swallow my sudden fear at his proximity, a possible scream already withering away in my throat, he locked eyes with me and stated in an even and detached tone, "Sleep, Elizabeth Parker."

And my mind offered no resistance. My world blacked out.


	61. SIXTY-ONE

_dootadoot - Sorry about the cliffhanger :-S Here's the rest :-) Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 _brokenbride - I don't know if this chapter will make you feel any less "tortured", but thank you so much for the feedback!_

* * *

 **SIXTY-ONE**

My body jerked into wakefulness with an alertness that may have called into question whether I had even been unconscious, and I immediately sat up from my sideway position on the...bed?

My eyes darted around the room and I had a fleeting thought that I had been there before when my frightened scan collided with the tall dark figure standing with arms crossed over his chest, back against the wall next to the doorframe.

The Sergeant.

"Hello, Ms. Parker," he drawled.

My first thought was of Max and I instinctively searched my head for him. But my mind was still solo-operated.

"Where's Max?" I croaked. I was aching all over and my head was spinning from my rather rapid move into an upright position.

The man pushed off the wall and, on reflex, I pressed back up against the headboard of the bed.

 _Don't look into his eyes!_ my thoughts were screaming at me. But I would very soon realize that the Sergeant didn't need eye contact to connect.

As he slowly stalked up to the bed, my arms and legs became unresponsive. It was not rocket science to figure out what was going on. To my relief, my thoughts remained my own.

"We've met before. Before today's meeting." There was a twinkle in his green piercing eyes.

He took a seat on the bed, far enough away that I could breathe, but close enough that I could feel the energy swirl around him. This man was powerful. Very powerful.

And right then I could feel that power banging against my mind. Like a persistent, and not so gentle, construction worker with a large sledgehammer trying to break through a stubborn bricked wall.

The Sergeant kept up the conversation like he wasn't working on giving me a massive headache, and his face revealed nothing as he continued, "But you might not remember."

I ignored the temptation to try and regain control of my body, instead focusing my energy on keeping him out of my mind. I had a feeling that he was currently unable to gain access to my innermost thought processes. Even though he seemed to be in perfect control of the parts of my brain governing my bodily movements.

"Where's Max?" I asked again. If he wasn't going to answer my questions, I was not going to engage in his line of discussion.

"Max Evans," the Sergeant stated slowly, almost contemplatively. "That boy sure is one major pain in the ass."

"Did you hurt him?" I asked through gritted teeth.

My body felt weird, since it wasn't responding to my anger appropriately. It was not right to be sitting like a propped up rag doll when a very dangerous man was seated mere two feet away from you.

The Sergeant cocked his head to the side, regarding me curiously. "Interesting. My son was telling me that you were difficult, but I would never have anticipated..."

The expected headache was creeping up the front of my head and another wave of dizziness rocked me.

"How long ago did you seal the bond with Max Evans?" the Sergeant continued and I knew that he was talking about our 'second' bonding, since our first bonding had already been accounted for at the meeting.

"None of your business," I bit out and longed to close my eyes against the pain searing through my head.

But Sgt. Steven Carter was in control of that part of me. And he wanted me to look straight at him. So, I did.

He chuckled. A surge of fresh fear burned through me.

"Feisty. I like that in a woman." He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, adding in a nauseatingly pleasant tone, "You know, you remind me a lot of your mother. She fought me for so long."

"Don't talk about my mother," I snapped, my body trembling from fighting his control.

Intellectually, I could suspect what he was doing. He was trying to upset me, drain me of energy, so that he could walk straight into my mind. Rationally, I knew I shouldn't be provoked.

But I had barely gotten over what they had done to my mother. I glared hotly at him. Correction; what _he_ had done to my mother.

He laughed and shook his head. Apparently he found this whole thing very entertaining. "There, there. No need to get all worked up. Besides, you should be grateful."

"Grateful?" I spat. Was he high?

"Yes," he said slowly, tasting every letter in that short word. He leaned forward and slowly ran his hand up the outside of my leg, up to the middle of my thigh.

Nausea exploded with an all-consuming fear and I desperately wanted to close my eyes against all of this. It had, actually, never before crossed my mind that I was in any danger of getting raped by Sean's _father_. But that prospect was suddenly very real and wild in my head.

The Sergeant might very well have gotten fed up with his son's unsuccessful attempts at establishing a connection and having decided to take matters into his own able hands. After all, the gaea he had just owned had - very prematurely, even by the Sergeant's order - died.

"Get your hands off me," I threatened, but my threat was faint and shaky. He would be able to do whatever he wanted with me. My mind might still be mine, but my body was not.

He pressed his thumbs into the softness of my inner thigh as his large hand wrapped horizontally across my thigh. "If it weren't for me, you probably wouldn't even exist."

The emotions stilled and I gasped a, "What?"

He released his grip on my thigh. "I let your mother go." The man that was my father's age slid his hand slowly back down my leg, gradually straightening back into his seated position. "I let her go so that she could be happy. Marry the man she wanted. Start a family." He raised a pointed eyebrow at me. "To have _you_."

Darkness crept around my heart. He couldn't fool me. There was no way that he had done something like that out of the 'goodness of his fake alien heart', or as a kind gesture towards my mom.

No, the reason behind 'letting her go' was, "Strategy." I huffed. "It was all strategy. Maybe she couldn't have a child with you. Maybe gaeas can't be hybrids, so there was no use in you creating a child with my mother. You obviously have an interest in preserving the gaea bloodline, since there are so few of them, so you probably let my mother have a shot at a normal life so that she could produce another gaea."

He looked at me calmly, silently, before throwing his head back and letting out a loud laugh. If I had been able to, I would have jumped. It would be an understatement to claim that the Sergeant wasn't the least surprised that I knew about the gaeas and what role my mother (and I) played in it.

Sgt. Carter settled down from his untimely laughter, and declared, "You're a smart girl," almost sounding impressed. "I don't believe that Sean has emphasized that enough." He shook his head slowly, his eyes searching my face.

I could still feel him working on the wall around my mind; clawing and scraping. Even while carrying on a 'polite' conversation, he had kept digging. And even though he didn't tire as easily as Mr. Evans or Sean, I could spot the strain that had produced a faint line on his forehead.

"Either Max has told you all of this-," the Sergeant said before shaking his head to himself in afterthought, "-but I don't think that's the case. Max doesn't know that much about gaeas. And my son is not stupid enough to have disclosed that information. No, Ms. Parker. I think you came up with the reason behind me leaving your mother alone, all on your own." He put his head to the side again, his eyes gleaming at me smugly. "Tell me, Elizabeth, did you at any point consider that I might be your father?"

His question spurred a very real fear in me. That suspicion had been fleeting in my head, but I hadn't dared to consider it. I was nothing like the monster sitting in front of me. I couldn't be related to him. I couldn't be a hybrid. Right?

My self-confidence swayed with doubt. _Right?_

But maybe that would explain why I was strong, more resilient than the other gaeas. If I was actually a hybrid who also happened to be a gaea.

I tried to swallow as I built up my defense. "You would let your son bond _sexually_ with his _half-sister_?" To my triumph I saw a twinkle of anger in his well-controlled features. "That's sick. Even for you."

He shrugged. Lightly. "Just a thought."

"You could never be my father," I hissed. "Never."

He traced a finger along the curve in the indent of my sock-covered foot (where had my shoes gone?) and said slowly, "There were enough opportunities for Nance and me to create a child, believe me."

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to kick the foot he was caressing into his face. I wanted to pound my fists against his chest and scream at the top of my lungs.

Instead my body was seated quietly, still and unresponsive, while my eyes tried their best to translate the anger I was feeling towards him.

"I'm human," I said, but I could feel him draining my energy further as he rocked my beliefs, the very foundation to my existence. "Completely human."

"Maybe," the Sergeant said evasively and I tried to block the insecurity, instead bringing forth the image of my dad's face. His warm smile, his unconditional love and how much he meant to me. I let it permeate my mind and push at the headache.

My eyes traced a droplet of sweat as it ran down Sgt. Carter's temple and I let my next breath infuse me further with bright thoughts about not only my father, but also my mom, my friends and Max.

Max.

I let my whole mind fill with memories of Max. Of his hands, of his touches, of his kisses, his love, his eyes, his skin. Of his protectiveness, his strength and warmth. I let the love I had felt through our connection earlier spread through every cell in my unresponsive body.

And I saw the Sergeant start to tremble from exertion in front of me, while surprise was replaced by anger on his face.

I felt the second his control snapped and my body shook with awareness.

I could feel my hands again and move my legs.

The Sergeant's head dropped forward in a second of visible fatigue and my mind worked fervently, quickly changing gears towards what my next move should be.

I hadn't really planned to be 'released' before the Sergeant had decided I would. So I didn't have the time to stop and think whether it was a good idea as I threw myself off the bed and tried to get my adrenaline-jellied legs to function as I shot for the door.

As my shaking fingers curled around the door handle, some invisible force wrapped itself around my body and yanked me backwards. The snap was so abrupt, so forceful, that I was sent flying to the floor and the back of my head impacted loudly with the wooden flooring.

For the second time within the span of an hour, I was rendered unconscious.


	62. SIXTY-TWO

_brokenbride and loveisalifetimeproject - Thank you so much for the feedback!_

* * *

 **SIXTY-TWO**

I was walking through a cornfield, the plants tall as they surrounded me on all sides. The leaves - sharp enough to create deep paper cuts - cut into my arms, and my agitation was increasing with every second.

I couldn't make out where I was. The sky was covered in thick grey clouds, its contours tinted with orange, and I could hear the faint sounds of thunder in the distance. The air sparkled with electricity - the magnetism that would sometimes charge the air close to big lightning storms.

My feet ached as I stepped on pebbles. Looking down, I realized that I was barefoot.

I could hear nothing but the rustling of stalks brushing against each other, of semi-ripe cobs bending over within their protective sleeves of leaves in the soft wind.

And the sound of quick moving feet.

I swirled around towards that eerie sound, the blood rushing in my ears.

Who was that?

But the view behind me looked exactly the same as the one in front of me. Row upon row of corn.

Even with the sound of hasty footsteps, like short legs and small feet moving really really quickly, I couldn't see anyone.

Not watching where I was going, my feet caught on something and I fell with a yelp of fear. I wiggled, trying to get away from the warm mass of _something_ that I had stumbled on, afraid that it was in fact something alive. Something that could hurt me.

Then my eyes fell on the head of my obstacle and I froze. I would have recognized that brown thick hair anywhere. The shape of the head. The strong curve of his neck that connected with the well-defined muscles of his back.

"Max?" I whispered and angled my body towards him rather than away.

He was facedown, wearing only black jeans, and I crawled closer, trying to see if he was breathing.

I brushed at his fringe, simultaneously checking his temperature. I sighed in relief at his warmth.

He was alive.

"Max?" I whispered again, bending closer. "Wake up. Please."

The rapid titter-tatter of little feet was gaining on me and my heart rate escalated in response to the rhythmic sound. I placed my hands on his shoulders and shook him.

"Please, Max," I pleaded. "We have to go. Wake up. Please."

The running sounds were increasing in volume, and panic was settling into my bones as I now could also discern the sound of corn plants being pushed to the side and trampled. Which meant that whoever - _whatever_ \- was making that sound was getting very close.

"Liz?"

My attention was sharply directed towards his mumbled query, but my relief was short-lived as the running now had reached sound levels that spoke of more than ten pairs of running feet. And they were close.

"We have to move," I told his closed eyes.

He groaned and moved slowly in the red sand. I took a hold of his bicep and helped him to his feet when the rustle got closer. Then stopped.

My body froze at the sudden deafening silence, and I slowly looked up from Max's weak, barely conscious, shape.

Surrounding us, forming a circle around our crouched bodies, were grey figures. They were about as tall as the average six-year-old, didn't wear a stitch of clothing, their bodies like plastic Barbie dolls with no external sexual traits, and their heads disproportionally large to the rest of their bodies.

Large, lidless, pitch black eyes - situated in triangular-shaped hairless heads with no mouths - were staring blankly at us.

It took me a second to take all of this in.

And one second was the only reprieve they afforded me with before they charged forward, the deafening ruffling of their heedless advance drowning my scream.

"Hey, hey," someone murmured soothingly as I was thrown out of my subconscious into my conscious.

My eyes snapped open and landed on blue eyes and blonde hair.

From one nightmare to another...

I startled and jerked backwards. But he had his hand around my arm and his grip only dug further into my upper arm with the movement, holding me in place.

"Calm down, Liz," he said quietly. "You're safe now. It was only a nightmare."

"Safe?" I gasped, struggling against his hold. "I'm not safe. Not as long as you're here."

Sean frowned. His position was mirroring mine. We were lying on our sides, on a bed, facing each other.

His frown turned into concern as he said, "Max really did a number on you, didn't he?"

I stopped struggling, looking at him coldly. "If anyone did a number on me, it was you."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Sean asked. Since I had stopped struggling, he let go of my arm and used that freed hand to brush a tendril of my hair off my face.

I flinched.

He had the audacity to look hurt. "You loved me, remember?"

His behavior was confusing me. _Does he really believe that?_

"It was all an act," I answered and tried to figure out why I felt guilty saying it.

"No," he said slowly, his blue gaze searching my face. "No, I could _feel_ it. You had - _have_ \- feelings for me."

Oh, I had feelings for him alright. But I suspected we were not talking about the same kind of feelings.

"The only _warm_ feelings I have for you are the ones you force on me," I said coldly. I met his eyes straight on. No longer fearing that doing so might make it easier for him to break into my mind.

 _Let him break into my mind. Let him see how Max makes me feel, how beautifully Max has treated me. How much he loves me._

 _Let him so what true love looks like_.

I stared at him. _I dare you._

But since his father hadn't been able to, I surmised that Sean would be equally unsuccessful at breaking into my mind.

"You can't _force_ someone to love you, Sean," I continued. "That's not real love. That's not even pretending. That's assault. What you did... You removed my free will."

"Don't be such a drama queen," Sean snarled, anger flashing in his eyes. "You needed a push in the right direction. Besides-" he brushed his thumb down along my cheek and I swallowed back my nausea while holding completely still, as Sean continued, "-I'm the good guy here. I didn't _have to_ be nice. You already belonged to me. You were already meant for me. You were _mine_."

I shivered. He ignored it and continued, "I could have bonded with you," there was a worrisome creepy hint to his insinuation, " _any time_ I wanted. I wouldn't have to take you on a date, make you like me." He sighed disappointedly. "But I did. For you. Because I wanted us to mean something."

"You wanted me to like you," I said slowly, quietly.

That was it.

In the midst of all the terror I was feeling, the disgust at having Sean so close, the disturbing magnitude of having him touch me, I realized something.

Sean was lonely. His father was a monster. He lived in the shadow of Max Evans. And the girl he had practiced his whole life to control - the girl that was _intended_ for him - didn't even want to be around him. Not by her own free will at least.

I found myself feeling incredibly sorry for him. _Pitying_ him.

The first real emotion I had ever seen moved through his eyes as I showered him with that emotion. Surprised recognition. Acknowledgement.

But it was gone in the blink of an eye.

"We have a long future ahead of us," he said, his voice cold and devoid of emotions. "It was worth a shot. It would have made both of our existences much more bearable."

"You're too late," I said bravely, while I was fearfully gauging his reaction. "I've already bonded with Max."

"So he said. At the meeting." Sean appeared unaffected. Bored even. "And just look at how that little announcement of his was received."

"You almost killed me," I shot back.

He looked annoyed, and a bit insulted. "That blast was intended for Max. He should be dead. I lost a little bit of respect for you with that move, Liz. Throwing your safety to the wind like that. For Max Evans, nonetheless. I thought you valued your life higher than that."

"I love him," I whispered desolately.

 _I would die for him._

Sean scoffed. "Like that matters."

His words hurt, even though I knew he was throwing them at me to taunt me. To belittle Max. To downgrade what Max and I shared.

I narrowed my eyes at him and asked, "What's happening to him?", hoping that Sean might provide me with the answers that his father had been unwilling to.

"He's awaiting trial," Sean shrugged, his tone light but not disguising his pleasure at that particular turn of events.

I blanched. Trial?

"Will they kill him?" I whispered, barely getting the words out.

My mind automatically searched for Max's (as it had done about a thousand times since we had been brutally separated), pessimistically expecting him to not be there.

Instead of the emptiness, having replaced Max's undeniable presence, I stumbled upon a familiar hum. Making me pause in hopeful anticipation. It was weak, but it was there. _He_ was there. How long had he been there?

I had to struggle to hide my reaction from Sean, not letting my hope and love show on my face. But considering the gleeful smirk on Sean's face, he hadn't noticed my mysterious happiness as he answered my dark question with, "Hopefully."

I wanted to smack the smirk off his face.

Instead I sighed with despondency. "What do you want, Sean?"

He brushed his hand down my arm, leaving ice-cold shivers in its wake. "You, of course," he stated as if it was a well-known fact. And yes, by now it probably was. Had been for awhile.

"At any price?" I asked, my whole body tightening as his hand caressed along the curve of my waist and over the hill of my hip. "Even if you know it would be rape?"

"Honestly," he said, his eyes reflecting irritation. "I don't care any longer." He shrugged. "I enjoyed the chase for a while." He grinned. "It was even fun. To see you lose all that _spunk_ and become putty in my hands. So easily shaped after my will. So weak."

His hand folded around the top of my thigh and with a hard squeeze he sharply pulled my thigh closer to his body. I gasped and my hand whipped up to connect with his cheek.

The sound of my palm hitting his face must have taken us both by surprise.

Anger flared in his eyes and with a faint grunt, unmatched to the explosiveness of his movements, he pulled me under him and covered my body with his. His breaths were like puffs of fire against my freezing face as he looked down at me.

His eyes were dark like charcoal.

"No-" I got out before he circled his hands around my throat and effectively cut of both my voice and air supply. The hard tops of his fingers squeezed around the cartilage of my trachea and with the building burn in my lungs, panic was seizing me, adrenaline trying to provide me with strength and power. Power to fight back.

But his much heavier body was pressing me down into the mattress; he had crawled further up my body, the insides of his feet pressed up against my hips and his knees pressing on my elbows - effectively trapping my arms. My chest hit his as I tried to get air into my lungs by arching my neck and upper body backwards and upwards.

"Such a beautiful girl," he said in a threatening hiss. His eyes were staring at me, barely an inch from my own. "Such a shame. Why couldn't you be bit more complacent?"

He let go of my throat and I immediately pulled a desperate breath of air into my starving lungs. But one gulping breath was all I got before he pressed my cheeks together, making my lips purse as he mumbled close to my face, "Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this." He laughed humorlessly. Coldly. "And you might just learnt to enjoy it. But first, you'll probably be in a lot of pain." And he laughed again.

The sound of my heart was pounding through my body, partly drowning his voice. I kicked upwards with my legs, but they had no target to hit. I tried turning my head away, but he was holding on too tightly.

I think this was the moment that people would refer to 'Your life flashing before your eyes'. Because I knew that he was going to abuse, rape and force me to submit to him. I knew that he might even manage to break the bond - that him having sex with me might be the thing that would override the connection. Just like Max had once told me. In a conversation that seemed to have happened years ago. That changing sexual partners would break bonds. Perhaps even the 'unbreakable' ones.

Against the darkness of my thoughts, he pressed his mouth against my restrained one and forced his tongue into my mouth. The violating kiss ignited my anger and I bit down on his tongue.

Sean's scream was garbled and mangled in my mouth before he pulled away. There was a metallic taste on my own tongue and I gagged, forcing the nausea back as I watched the droplets of blood gleam brightly red on the white, poorly tanned, skin of his chin.

I stared at the blood, my heart beating roughly in my chest, in what was probably only the fraction of a second of stand-still before Sean cracked the knuckles of his tightly fisted hand across my left cheek.

Hot pain exploded across my cheek and my head snapped to the side from the force.

I'm not really sure what happened after that. I briefly felt warmth and strength gather in the center of my body, coupled with a scream that seemed to originate from the deepest corners of my soul. Rapidly assembling a ball of power that - along with a scream - exploded out of my body.

Sean was flung off me as though he were an offending fly having been swatted by a flyswatter. The wall next to the door abruptly stopped his trajectory through the air and he crumbled into a heap on the floor.

The energy simmering in my body in the aftermath was not my own. Couldn't be. Because even if the Sergeant's taunt about me being partly of alien blood - being _his child_ \- couldn't possibly be true, there was no way I could do something like that. Something completely _alien._

"Max," I whispered, questioningly and hopefully. My mind reached for an answer, a sign that Max was more present than just a hum, while my eyes kept a close guard on the immobile stack of alien over by the door.

Tingles of energy sparked out along my arms and wrapped me up in a comforting warmth. For a second it felt as if the mental hum was intensifying. But the sensation was gone as soon as it had arrived.

Sean groaned and my focus immediately sharpened. I pulled my legs to my chest, scooted up against the headboard and temporarily forgot about the throbbing pain across my cheekbone, as I watched Sean start to rise from his recumbency.

"I don't know how or what you just did, bitch," he mumbled.

My pulse was so loud in my ears that I could barely hear his threats. He grabbed onto the door handle for leverage as he unsteadily pulled himself to his feet. "Maybe I should get Max to heal me for this stunt of yours. He would see what I've done to you. See you in _my_ mind. That would be fun."

I paled. Whenever Max was mentioned, the fear gripped me tighter.

"I'll be back, _Lizzie_ ," he hissed, his eyes darker than I had ever seen them.

As he slammed the door behind him and left me alone, the pain in my cheek became very obvious. I couldn't stop the tears, even if I had wanted to.

I sank down into the bed, curled up in a tight fetal position, with my back against the headboard, aiming to make myself disappear as I sought out that presence at the back of my head. The only thing that was making this bearable. The only thing that was giving me hope.


	63. SIXTY-THREE

_brokenbride - Yep, shared powers... ;-) Thank you for the feedback!_

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* * *

 **SIXTY-THREE**

"I wonder," the Sergeant said slowly on the third day of my deprivation of freedom, "how much your mother really told you of the double life she was leading."

Feeling the need to protect my mother and ascertain that she hadn't belonged to the aliens; that they had killed someone who had actually kept their secret, I answered, "Nothing. I knew nothing of what you exposed her to."

He didn't acknowledge the venom in my voice as he huffed, "Huh," and sat down on the bed. Right where he would normally sit during his visits. "Let me tell you about your mother, Elizabeth."

I barely had time to consider if this should be something to be happy about - getting some more information on my mother - or if it should scare me, before he sent me a vision.

My suspicions about the strength of his abilities were further confirmed as he managed to project images into my mind without even touching me. Without a proper connection.

A young woman was running towards me, a large smile stretched across her lips. She looked a lot like myself, only her eyes were green and her hair was dark auburn. Her curly hair bounced around her open and freckled face. I gasped with the deepest joy as she jumped into my arms.

Mom.

It was mom.

At an age that I hadn't known her. My age. A happy carefree adolescent.

"Hey," she breathed into my neck and I tightened my arms around her. She felt small in my arms - breakable - and I realized that I wasn't only seeing the Sergeant's _vision_. I was seeing it from his viewpoint. At the moment I _was_ him.

And my mom didn't seem the least afraid of him. No. When she pulled back and placed a gentle kiss on my - _his_ \- lips, I could see that she was in love. Very much in love with Steven Carter. In love with the enemy. The monster.

The edges of the memory blurred and shifted from the outside summery setting to the closed indoors. To the white-tiled bathroom with red staining on the floor.

I froze, looking closer at the bright red against the stark white tiles.

Blood.

And in the middle of the pool of blood was a slightly older version of my mom. She was sitting in the color of life, her legs bare, wearing an oversized grey T-shirt, with her red curls free around her face. Crying with the sounds of death.

No. Not just crying.

Screaming.

Making the blood freeze in my veins.

Her head turned towards me, her cheeks flustered and wet, and there was cold hatred in her red-brimmed eyes as she cried, "You did this! You did this!"

I looked at the bundle in her hands, the undeveloped fetus. The child, no larger than a package of butter. A dead child, which was cradled in my mother's bloodied hands.

"No," I heard myself say. But it wasn't my voice. Not my opinion. "This is on you, Nance. You can't even provide me with a child, you worthless whore."

In the present, in the room where I was seated with the Sergeant, I pressed my hands to my head and tried to physically force the visions out of my head. "Stop! Stop it!"

But the visions kept on coming. Loving and even romantic moments between the Sergeant and my mother mixed with the devastation and grief of one miscarriage after the other. He forced me to trace how the pink shimmer of the beginning of their relationship started to wear off. How my mom began to figure out who her boyfriend really was as the facade began to crack. I saw signs of myself in my mom as she grew more tired, constantly plagued by headaches.

When she would no longer look at him with love, he would force himself on her. He showed me the struggles, the fear in my mother's eyes, the tears down her cheek, the blood on the sheets. He showed me how he stole her memories even when she begged him not to.

And the continuous abortion of fetuses of all sizes. My heart was threatening to fall apart because of the pain. I couldn't account for the number of times my mother had been pregnant with the Sergeant - the equivalent number of times her body had rejected the babies.

I begged for him to stop. I begged for my own sanity, when it was starting to make perfect sense why my mother had - in the end - lost hers.

As the assault of his visions was retracted, my upper body slumped forward, my eyes burning from the wear of tears, and I found myself exhausted.

Then Sgt. Carter sent me into another vision. Of me.

A much younger and blissfully ignorant version of me.

I watched with fearful apprehension the worry on my mother's face as I - _he_ \- watched the young me. I saw how my mother reached for me when I picked my younger self up in my arms and hugged the small body close to mine. A little bit too tightly.

"Let her go, Steven," my mother said, sharply, just as the child - the young Elizabeth (who seemed to be barely two years old) - started crying.

To my relief, he did. Young Elizabeth was placed on her feet and stumbled straight into Nancy's arms.

My mother cradled the small body protectively in her embrace and her eyes were filled with hatred when she looked at me. Him.

I shuddered. I had never personally experienced that look from my mother. It was a look that promised death to anyone that would hurt the ones she loved.

"You can try and protect her all you want," the Sergeant albeit taunted, the vision using my mouth to speak. "But soon she'll be a part of us and serve us. Just like you."

I watched my mother pale, all color drain from her face, and she slowly shook her head, pressing her child closer to her by placing a hand to the back of the dark-haired head.

"No," Nancy said weakly. "Use me. You'll get enough out of using me. Leave my baby out of this."

"And leave my son defenseless?" the Sergeant questioned in mock surprise, insinuating that my mother was the cold-hearted, selfish one out of the two of them. "That's a bit selfish, don't you think?"

"Your _son_ -" my mother spat, "-will do fine without my daughter."

She started to walk backwards, the crying from my younger self drowning any noise from the surroundings. "I won't stand by and watch her be forced to repeat my life."

Her voice broke at the last sentence and I could see how she was barely holding on. On the verge of falling apart.

The little girl's screams rose in volume alongside my mother's increasing agitation and my heart broke as I watched my mother put her lips to the side of my younger self's head, placing soothing gentle kisses against the innocent softness, whispering hushed nonsensical words of comfort while she rocked the young child in her arms.

"The purpose of your daughter's life is to devote her life to us. To help us. It's an honorable task. Not many people's lives have a chance to mean something. You should consider her blessed."

" _Blessed?_ " my mother spat acidly. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

His shoulders shrugged and his tone was light and nonchalant across my lips as he stated, "Just see it this way; You'll never have to worry about who she'll marry or what career she'll have. A lot of girls suffer from depression because they feel like there are too many choices to make in life." He chuckled good-naturedly. "She won't ever have to worry abut that. It's all taken care of."

My mother rocked me harder, the frustration and fear evident in her increasingly agitated motions. "You stay away from her, Steven. You can do whatever you want to me. But you stay away from her."

And the vision blurred and disintegrated around me like smoke.

"No," I gasped, reaching out towards her escaping shape - the image of my mom.

Instead, the Sergeant's face became clear in front of me, a satisfied grin on his face.

"See? There's no need to try and resist us, Liz. Your mom tried. She tried for many years. Even _before_ you were born. And just look how that turned out."

When I didn't say anything, his eyes gleamed with frightening clarification. "She became unhinged and then turned into dust. Ashes." As if it had been my mother's fault. As if her insanity and subsequent death had been her own doing. Because she had been resisting.

Heat from my grief - coupled with the bottomless anger towards the man in front of me - threatened to burn away my insides.

He leaned forward and brushed his finger down my cheek. My body didn't reject him. To my relief he didn't touch me any more than that.

"Be smart, Lizzie," he said softly. "Don't destroy your life. Sean is-" he shook his head, as if he didn't quite believe in it himself, "-really infatuated with you. If you let him; he'll be good for you."

I snapped my body back from his touch and pulled on the collar to my sweater, displaying a ring of red and blue bruising around my throat. In case he had missed the sickly-colored bruise on my cheek.

"Is _this_ how he will take care of me, huh?" I bit out hotly. "Because to me, that's not love. That's not even care."

The Sergeant gave me an almost condescending smile. "Sean has trouble controlling his temper at times. And I bet that _you_ \- if you are anything like your mother-," he caught a tendril of my hair and rolled it slowly between his fingertips, "-are not really making it easy on my boy."

"He doesn't deserve easy," I mumbled, brushing his hand away when it floated over the purple bruise across my cheekbone. The first hit.

"Is he in your head now?" the Sergeant asked, almost curiously.

"Sean?" I taunted in disbelief. As if his son would have any more access to my mind than his father.

The Sergeant's eyes darkened at my mocking tone and his voice was ice-cold as he corrected me, "Max. Max Evans."

I swallowed. Max's name sobered me up. Made heat float into my shattered and weary body.

"Yes," I acknowledged quietly, dropping my eyes.

I didn't want to look at the man when talking about Max. Max was private. Max was to be protected.

"You know," the Sergeant mused. "I should have just killed him when all of this started."

I swallowed and looked up at him. Hearing him threatening Max's life was freezing every cell in my body. One painful freeze after the other.

"But Command found out - and then Philip butted in." He shrugged. "It's a shame he's the only healer left in his generation. Ever since that idiot David died in that motorcycle accident last year. Max is apparently-" he swallowed as if he had swallowed something nasty, "indispensable."

"If he hadn't been..." I whispered and licked my dry lips. "He would have been killed."

"I don't think you realize the magnitude of the crime you've committed, Ms. Parker," the Sergeant said slowly and threateningly. "Anyone else would have been executed the moment he started having impure thoughts about you. The only one allowed to have that is my son."

"Have you ever reflected on what you're doing?" I asked. "That you're forcing a human being to have...relations with an alien. To put her life in danger and dictate her whole future without her having a say?"

"You will be safer with us than without us," the Sergeant said simply. "We have protectors for you, and our whole society would make sure that you're not to be harmed. What other ordinary human being - excluding the ones that can pay for it - have their own bodyguard?"

I narrowed my eyes in irritation. "Still, that's just for your benefit. To protect your interests. You're not doing it because you care about _me_."

"Come on," the Sergeant breathed. "It's not like you humans don't have those arrangements. Arranged marriages - usually with really big age differences - are still very real in many of your cultures. Not too many years back, you imported colored people from Africa to _serve_ you, under ridiculous and appalling conditions. So don't try and get on your high horse here, Ms. Parker, and lecture me on what is right and wrong."

"I was not part of any of that," I whispered. "I can only relate to my own situation. And hope that you would learn from all those indifferences in our world just like the human population is starting to. And I'm-" I hesitated, biting back my pride, "-begging you to let me go. Let Max and I be. We can help out - as a bonded couple - and maybe still be beneficial to you."

Maybe it was stupid to try and reason - negotiate with a monster - but I had to try. I was reaching the end of my rope here.

There was a twitch in the corner of his eye and the light in his eyes intensified into a frightening fervor, as if he was trying to X-ray his way through my face. "Enlighten me then, Ms. Parker. What is so great about a bonding between you and a healer? Why should we let you off the hook, let you get away with this crime? Why should we ignore laws that have been in play for longer than you have lived, that have been very beneficial to our race, only because you two are indulging in a high school romance?"

The sarcasm was dripping like acid off his voice, making me sick. Making me want to scream at him for not understanding how deeply I felt for Max. Even if I was just a human. Even if he was just a healer. Even if we were still in high school. Even if we were still 'kids'.

I wanted to crush that smile of his between my fingers. I really wanted to have the power to silence him, to prove to him that he was wrong. He was so wrong.

But he wasn't just an adult that was shoving his years and experience in the face of a disobedient teenager. I wasn't in a position to scream at him from the top of my lungs or slam a door in his face, as if to end a quarrel between a daughter and her father.

This was not my loving father, who loved me unconditionally even in the face of occasional arguments.

 _This_ adult could probably snap my neck with barely a thought. And would do so without hesitation or remorse if he found it appropriate.

Ergo, my voice was calm and level, borderline respectful, as I tried to enlighten him. "I know you don't want to believe me or Max about this. I know that we have broken a lot of rules and upset your community. We _both_ know this. We never intended to be disrespectful or defiant. We can't control what we feel for each other." I inhaled deeply and added, "The bond is actually pushing us together."

There was not a single emotion on the Sergeant's face. None to reflect how he was interpreting the information I was giving him.

So I continued, further emphasizing that neither Max nor I were in control of this. Reiterating that we were innocent products of an alien phenomenon. "I don't really understand all of this. Neither does Max, even if he has more knowledge than I do. But from what I've understood, the connection we share is not ordinary. It's not even typical of a bond between a gaea and her intended alien. We can communicate telepathically-"

"That's not unusual," the Sergeant interrupted complacently.

"-without touching," I filled in, seeing the brief surprise flicker through his eyes, which encouraged me to continue. "We can communicate with thoughts across a distance. And I'm sure this is something that would develop further with time, seeing that we haven't been bonded that long."

The Sergeant looked bored. "That's all very interesting, Ms. Parker. But the question remains; How would that be beneficial to us? Sure, silent communication would be an asset in battle, but none of you are trained for that type of endeavor any way. And where's the proof that a similar connection can't be formed with another alien, say - my son?" He tapped his index finger against his mouth in contemplation. "I think it would be a waste to not give it a try, wouldn't you? Seeing that my son is very strong. The things he could do with your particular _input_..."

I swallowed at the creepy double meaning to his suggestion, but squared my shoulders and mustered up a challenging look to hide my terrified nervousness. "Say that I agreed to bond with Sean. Say that the bond between Max and I could actually be broken. If a bonding between Sean and I proved less successful than the connection I had shared with Max, would you let me reconnect with Max?"

A slow smile spread across his lips, making him look like a devious snake. "Are you trying to cut a deal with me, Elizabeth?"

 _Never in a million years,_ I thought, but replied, "Hypothetically."

"Something tells me that Sean wouldn't give you up once he got you," the Sergeant said slowly and I bit my lip to prevent it from shaking.

 _My thought exactly_ , I realized grimly.

"Besides, it doesn't really matter in the end; what you might have had with the Evans boy is against the law. It's not meant to be. Your destiny is much greater than a high school crush."

 _It's not a high school crush!_ I wanted to scream at him, but I held my tongue.

The visions of my mother and the dead babies were still lingering at the back of my head. Still very present in my mind. I don't think I would ever forget them. Unless they _made me_ forget them, of course.

So instead of trying to convince him of something that he seemed dead-set on not agreeing to, I changed tracks. "What about the gaea-bloodline? _Is it_ possible for a gaea to have a child with an alien? Were your...attempts-" I swallowed against the horrible visions of his treatment of my mother, "-with my mom an exception or the rule?"

"It's usually not done," the Sergeant replied, surprising me with what seemed to be honesty. "Usually we bond with someone we desire, to create a family."

Someone they _desired_... Not someone they _loved_.

"Our relationship with the gaea is business. Not a way to play house."

He still wasn't answering my question. Even if aliens _usually_ chose someone other than their gaea to create a family with (as he claimed), it failed to answer the question of whether or not it was _possible_ for a gaea to have a child with an alien. If there had been successful pregnancies in the past between a gaea and an alien, or if the combination of my mother and the Sergeant was futile.

Something told me that it _was_ possible. Why else would the Sergeant even bother with getting my mother pregnant? One could explain it by the Sergeant 'accidentally' impregnating my mother, but if that was the case why would he have told my mom (in one of the visions he had just made me watch) that she couldn't even give him a child, if he knew that there was no possibility of a successful pregnancy happening?

I had a very strong feeling that he wouldn't be upfront about this. Probably a strategic move on his behalf to let me wonder, since my mother's fate was so closely intertwined with my own.

I let it slide, focusing on what he had just said before my thoughts ran away with me, and how much it irked me.

 _The aliens' relationship with gaeas was business_ , "Even though you had sex with her," I asked, being way past the point of feeling embarrassed about bringing that topic up with him after he had shown me too many sexual visions of he and my mother that a child to that parent should ever have to see. Actually, no human being should ever witness that cold violence and oppression.

Sgt. Carter shrugged. "It's how we bond. It's as simple as that. Although..." he started and winked at me. I pressed my mouth together. Tightly. "Sex with a gaea is something different. Which is why I went after your mother for more than just a connection. So that I could have her - _all of her_. It was actually kinda fun - and satisfying, I must admit - to watch her fall for me. To watch her grow weak in her love for me. How easy it was to manipulate her, to make her want to do _anything_ for me."

He chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "You humans are such victims to your feelings. They really make you look - and act - like idiots." He smiled knowingly. "Max is doing the same thing to you, you know. Manipulating your feelings, making you _think_ that you love him and that he loves you. That's why you're so intent on defending him, on defending your bond. He's got you trapped in his little net and you don't even know it."

The anger I was feeling was so overwhelming, so suffocating, that I forgot how to breathe. I stared at him in open disgust, as my fingers curled into the mattress of the bed. I felt the heat of the restrained wrath numb me while it simultaneously ignited me.

 _How dare he?_

My vision was actually turning red and I felt like crying or screaming. I didn't really know which.

I just knew that I wanted to crush him. I wanted to pump my feelings towards him into his body and _make him understand_. I wanted him to suffer, to regret his assumptions, to repent his condescending smiles and experience the inhuman misery he had put my mother through.

As I thought and felt this, I could see his face turning redder. I realized that it hadn't been my vision that had turned red, it was the man in front of me. His eyes widened in something akin to horror as his eyeballs started to protrude from the eye sockets, the small vessels in the whites of his eyes becoming visible like thin jagged trials of blood.

He tumbled off the bed, with his arms tightly aligned along his upper body. He was oddly stiff, which made the convulsions running through his body look odd and mechanical.

I was staring at him, my breathing shallow and unfulfilling, and met his bulging eyes straight on.

Which I probably shouldn't have done.

There was an acutely sharp and burning chop through the front of my skull, as if he had just cleaved my forehead with an axe. The pain resonated through my whole body, efficiently cooling my anger as I collapsed onto my back. I frantically cast my hands to my head, expecting to feel a hole there, expecting to get blood on my hands as my life poured out of me.

But my head was intact even while the pain was still very real.

I blinked up, my eyes squinting against the pain, as his shape leaned over me. His face was eerily neutral in the aftermath of what had happened to him. Whatever had happened to him was now gone. He looked perfectly like himself again.

He traced my face with cold empty eyes and stated calmly, "You just proved to me that you are invaluable to my son. I promise you, Elizabeth Parker. You _are_ going to serve my son and you are going to be grateful to do it."

With that, he left, and the pain in my head ebbed along with his departure, leaving me with the traumatizing images of the life my mother had led at the hands of a cold and barbaric alien.

Knowing that Steven Carter had not merely shown me my mother's past, but also my own future.


	64. SIXTY-FOUR

_mlwtbird - Oh, I'm so happy to see that you've found your way here from RF. I don't recognize your username though... Do you use another one at RF or are you a lurker there ;-) Either way; thank you **so much** for your feedback! And karma will do its work and come after the Sergeant eventually, I promise._

 _"Random Reader" - You can post me feedback however soon you want; I love it either way. You are very allowed to scream profanities about Carter Junior and Senior. They deserve much more than that even. Thank you so very much for the feedback! Max and Liz are kinda showing that love can conquer everything._

* * *

 **SIXTY-FOUR**

The days blurred into one another after that. I got at least one visit every day, from either the Sergeant or his son. They were trying to break into my mind, in order to break the bond between Max and I.

At first, Sean had continued with his plan to attempt to have sex with me, trying to get close. But whenever he would physically touch me, he would get zapped. It was as if my body was protected by an electrical field, as if it was tuned into repelling Sean. And that indescribable protection gave me hope. Because I knew that it was Max. Max was still protecting me.

Thus, most of the time, Sean settled for clawing at my mind, from a safe distance. But sometimes he got through that odd protective wall around my body. Sometimes the safeguarding barrier was gone and he would seize the opportunity and choose to punish me with beatings rather than sex. I found gratitude in the small things: that Sean would be too angry whenever he would break through to rape me.

It didn't mean that I wasn't suffering. I had never been beaten in my life before these horrible days I was currently enduring. My parents had never laid a hand on me as an added disciplinary method. My body was completely unprepared for it. Even if I didn't actually think that anyone could ever prepare oneself for that physical pain.

Well, maybe a boxer. Or a martial arts fanatic.

But not a 16-year-old ex-waitress.

It hurt. It hurt in ways I couldn't explain. My gasps were useless, my labored breaths failed to relieve the sensations, my screams were ignored.

Sean made sure that I was in constant pain, one way or the other. In the periods when Max was protecting me, I remained physically safe, but Sean could still press against my mind; inducing headaches and piercing pain in my mind.

In the intermittent moments of the physical abuse, when my alien protection was missing, I wasn't only hurting because of the kicks to my stomach or the hard fists against my chest, against my face, but because of what that absence implied.

What was going on with Max in those moments that prevented him from protecting me?

My concern for him greatly overrode the physical pain. The lack of knowledge of his whereabouts, his condition, what they were doing to _him_ was tearing me apart.

Maybe that was part of their plan too. Their plan to break me down.

On top of their inhuman treatment of me, they were starving me. I was given a small piece of bread per day, something that I had abstained from eating the first two days, on principle. I wanted them to know that I still had a choice over my own life. But my hunger had won in the end and now I had to pace myself so I wouldn't eat that egg-sized piece of bread too quickly, giving me a stomach ache. I had access to water from the adjoining small bathroom, but with a ridiculously low daily calorie intake I was rapidly growing weaker.

I could map out their agenda perfectly, even though they weren't much into sharing information with me. They aimed to weaken me enough (but of course, still keeping me alive) so that I would lose the control I had over my mind and would eventually accidentally let them in. Enabling them to break the connection, to take control over my mind and life.

They seemed to be able to access some parts of my mind. Immobilizing me, pinning me to the walls even without touching me, making me unconscious when they grew tired of me. But they were unsuccessful in breaking into the wall around my thoughts - where I kept Max safe. Where our bond was thrumming without relenting.

I spent the first two days in captivity by banging on the door until my hands bled, screaming for help until my voice turned hoarse before it grew weak from overuse.

There were no windows where I was being held and I had a feeling that I was nowhere close to civilization for anyone to be able to hear me. Anyone except my captors, of course. There were no sounds from the outside getting into the room, making me suspect that the room might even be soundproofed.

There was a bed. With an old hard mattress. Without any linens. A bedside table with a small lamp. That was about it.

On day four, I was huddled up in a corner of the room, the furthest away from the door, my head repeatedly dipping forward as I was slowly drifting off to sleep. Whenever I had been getting close to sleeping, a large alarm had gone off in the room, preventing me from reaching the energizing level of deep sleep, and I was starting to wonder how long a human being could go without proper rest.

They had let me sleep an hour or two here and there, but I knew it wasn't enough. I knew it from how my body was shutting down, how I was even too tired nowadays to feel the sharp grinding pains in my stomach from the lack of food. How I barely had the energy to feel anything from the different types of abuse the aliens subjected me to.

On that fourth day, there was a rustling outside of the door, making me look towards it in a mixture of resignation and fear. But there were warning bells ringing at the back of my head, making chills rush down my spine. Because there was too much noise surrounding the process of getting that door open. It was not the general smooth process of opening that I had gotten used to hearing.

This sounded more like someone was trying to break in. Rather forcibly.

My body managed to produce adrenaline that got me to straighten up in my corner, my eyes wide and fixed on the door without daring to blink.

In my heightened alerted state, I jumped as the door was aggressively pushed open, and then I started shaking.

Because appearing inside of the open door was Max.

Max.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes flickering around the room, searching. His clothes were dirty and hung off his agitated frame, and his hands were flexing and relaxing at the sides of his body in a stressed rhythm.

Then his eyes found my still and anticipated frame and I could do nothing but stare.

It couldn't be him.

I was too beaten, too battered, too damaged, to let myself believe. To allow the hope to grab a hold of me. I didn't want to think it, but I did; _He's here to rescue me._

With a strangled cry, I fumbled to get my legs under me and get to my feet at the same time as he rushed forward.

His arms were around my body before I had managed to rise to my full length, and I let myself sink against him with a desperate sob of relief.

"Max..." I whispered, burrowing my head against his chest.

His arms were tight around my body, his hands were pressing up against my shoulder blades. His lips were in my hair as he echoed, "Baby..."

His voice shook my frail frame and another whimpered sob escaped me as I curled my arms around his body and held on tightly.

I was trying to hold my feelings back, trying to keep myself calm, because we were still on enemy territory. All they would have to do would be to close the door on us and we would be trapped.

Together. But still trapped.

"How did you escape?" I whispered against his chest as I breathed in his smell.

The captivity had changed him. Had changed how he smelled. He didn't smell like Max anymore. Which saddened me. Made me want to crawl even closer to find that unique Max scent that should be there somewhere.

"I caught them off guard," Max answered and pulled back, moving his hands to the front of my shoulders to put some distance between us. His amber eyes met mine in concern as he whispered, "What have they done to you?"

I averted my eyes, suddenly ashamed at how I must look. All black-and-blue, bloodied, swollen. I hadn't showered in days. My own reaction felt wrong; it was not as if the change to my appearance was _my_ fault, but I didn't want him to see me like this. This weak. This broken.

I took a deep breath, avoiding his question. There was no time to talk. "We need to get out of here."

I glanced up to catch the small shake of his head. "No. Let me look at you first. Let me heal you. You need strength to get going."

I frowned at his reasoning. It was logical and rational, but still something about it seemed off. It wasn't safe to linger.

My objection was impressively strong as I said, "I can do it. I can walk. I'm fine. Just get us out of here."

He frowned, anger flashing in his eyes, making an instinctive shiver run through me. "No." He cradled my face with his hands, the tips of his fingers pressing into my cheekbones. "Look at me, Liz. You need to let your mind go blank. I need to heal you."

That's when my starving body and mind started to suspect that something wasn't right. My eyes flickered to the half-opened door, and Max's voice from before whispered through my memory;

 _Using energy, I can lock it with a signature. Kinda like a password._

My heart froze and I slowly looked up at Max, meeting his familiar golden eyes. "How did you get the door open?"

He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "The door? Come on, Liz. We don't have time for this. I need to heal you."

I silently, feeling dazed, searched his eyes.

 _"Does Sean even look like the person he portrays himself as?"_

 _"No."_

I swallowed slowly as my mind started searching for Max. Why hadn't our connection opened up fully when Max had entered the room? Why did Max need me to look into my eyes to heal me when we were already deeply connected?

 _Sean can change his appearance._

With a fearful gasp, my hands flew up to his cradling my face and I quickly pried his hands away, stumbling as I took a step backwards, escaping his presence.

His eyes darkened in anger. "What are you doing?"

He reached out for me, but I took another step back, my back hitting the wall behind me. "We don't have time for this. They might be here at any second."

"You're not him," I whispered, not daring to blink. Not wanting to let him out of my sight.

Something dark twitched in the corner of his mouth, the beginning of a grimace I had never seen on Max's face before.

 _He doesn't even smell right._

"You're exhausted," Max said slowly, cautiously closing the space between us.

"How did you open the door?" I asked again.

"I picked it," Max said simply. "Why is that so important?"

"Because you can't pick a door that is locked with alien energy," I answered, my voice tense. "You told me that."

His eyes twitched, before they grew gentle, softened. I inhaled slowly at the transformation. My traitorous body desperately wanted to accept that it was him. That it was _my_ Max.

"Let me in, baby," he coaxed gently. "You're delusional. You haven't eaten-"

I narrowed my eyes at him and demanded, "How would you know?"

He stared at me, his voice empty as he clarified, "You've lost weight."

I ignored his excuse, moving on to, "You wouldn't need my permission to access my mind. You already have it."

I watched the darkness spread over his face. I watched the darkness transform the gentle beautiful features that I knew so well. I watched it change him into something dangerous, something to fear, something that would hurt me.

In the fraction of a second he had me pushed up against the wall, his breath warm against my damaged face. I closed my eyes against his face. I couldn't see him like this. I couldn't stand how those beautiful eyes had turned cold and threatening.

"You stubborn bitch," he hissed, in that dark timber of voice that was so similar to Max's but still not at all.

I squeezed my eyes tighter together against the breaking of my body. I could feel myself falling apart. Could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

Not him. Why did they have to use him?

"You don't even trust _him_ ," fake Max whispered tightly.

I didn't respond, biting hard into my bottom lip and wishing that I was somewhere else, pulling back into my mind to hide.

"Look at me," he demanded tensely.

When I didn't respond, his fingers dug deeper into my bony shoulders and he shook me hard once. " _Look at me._ "

"Not as long as you look like him," I mumbled, the tears breaking my voice. I hated how I sounded in that moment. How weak and exposed. How broken.

"I'm just giving you what you want," he hissed and my tired feet stumbled in surprise as he pulled on my small frame. I felt myself float through the air before I was thrown on my back onto (what I could only assume) the hard mattress.

My eyes were still closed and I was crying now. Sobbing desolately. I couldn't help it. I actually wanted him to kill me. I wanted him to end this. This was worse than death. My existence was worse than death.

"You want Max, don't you?" he snarled as he climbed on top of me.

I recognized the weight of his body on top of mine and I felt my whole body tighten against it. Because my body wanted me desperately to believe that it was him. That it was the man I loved with every detail of my being.

"Well, guess what? I'm granting you your wish. I'm letting you fuck Max Evans one last time."

A harsh sob ripped through my body as hopelessness emptied my heart. I brought my hands up to my face and pressed my palms against my face, my body surrendering. I was too weak and I was resigning to the fact that I might lose everything. Within minutes, I might lose everything. My self-worth, my right to my own body, the bond to Max, my freedom. My life.

His breathing was loud around us as he quickly unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down my legs. I hated that his fingers felt like Max's more than the fact that he was undressing me. I crawled into the back of my mind, making a last effort at searching him out.

If only to say goodbye.

My tears were wetting my palms which I were still pressing against my face, my sobs echoing off the bare walls, as he pulled back, leaving my panties on.

I could hear the rustling of clothes and could only assume that he was undressing himself.

Then his bare legs brushed against mine and I inhaled sharply, searching out a memory of Max to focus on. Of his gentle touch, of his barely contained love. Of his small confessions.

"Where's your amazing Max now, huh? Why isn't he here to _rescue_ you?" His tone was sarcastic and cold as he brushed his hands down my chest, pressing against my breasts, which were still protected by my top and the light grey sweater Isabel had given me for warmth.

He wiggled against my lower body, pushing my knees out to the sides as he sank down between my legs. Molding our lower bodies close together. I found myself drifting further and further away from the situation.

He was turned on. I could not only feel it, but also hear it in his breathing. In the groans he was making as he moved his hands down my abdomen and up underneath my clothing.

My feelings were all over the place, collapsing around me before they turned numb.

He was grinding his manhood against me, and I was pressing the tips of my fingers so hard into the front of my skull that I might have been able to break through the cranium.

 _Max_ , I whispered into my mind. Where was he? God, where was he?

 _Max_ , I cried and my physical tears bled into my mental thought. _It's over. It's all over. He's erasing you._

But there was no reply. Nothing. I wondered briefly if they had planned it this way. If Max were to be controlled - subdued - in some way in the exact moments that I were to be assaulted. That they had finally realized that in order to get through to me, they needed to incapacitate Max.

 _I love you_ , I mentally whispered into the quietness of our bond, as I felt fake Max curl his fingers in my panties over my left hip and pull sharply until they tore.

I considered opening my eyes, going along with the lie that Max was the one that was touching me right now, and just let it happen. Maybe then fake Max would go easier on me. Maybe if I showed something back - returned his advances - he would connect with his humanity and see that I was actually a person.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't get myself to open my eyes. I didn't want the assaulter to destroy my perception of _my_ Max and what we had shared, even more than he was already doing.

Because, unfortunately, I realized that I was able to recognize Max's body anywhere. The only thing that wasn't fooling me was the pressure behind fake Max's touches. How his strong hands were hard and rough, rather than gentle and slow. How the rocking of his hips against mine was perverted instead of enticing.

His moan was dark and deep - sickening - as he moved his fingers through the folds of my exposed sex. I froze against the completely cold feeling from that (usually) intimate spot. How the motion could make me feel empty and worthless in one single movement.

"Oh fuck," he mumbled. "This is gonna be fun. This is gonna be so much fun."


	65. SIXTY-FIVE

_"Random Reader" - I really hope you didn't throw your phone at the wall :-S And that you've survived the wait... Very impressive of you to notice that my descriptions of how Sean touched Liz (while pretending to be Max) were not as detailed as I when I usually describe M/L's relationship. You're a perceptive one ;-) I hope that you will find the end to this chapter a bit "calmer" than the previous one. Thank you **so much** for reading and for leaving feedback!_

 _loveisalifetimeproject - *blushes* Thank you sooo much. That means **SO** much to me._

* * *

 **SIXTY-FIVE**

 _I wish you were dead._

The thought rushed through my mind uninhibited. With a darkness I had never before experienced. I had never before wished death on anyone. But in that moment, I didn't feel like he deserved to live. He didn't deserve to live when he would treat another person like this.

At that point, I felt the unmistakable energy pool in my body. But it didn't feel the same as before. It was warmer this time, more powerful, more...focused.

It awakened my dazed condition, forced me to focus on that feeling, to direct it and take charge of it. Whatever it was - Max or the bond itself - it was there to help me.

"God, you're warm," he grumbled in Max's voice and I could literally feel myself heating up underneath him.

I pulled my hands from my face and looked up and down at him just as he snapped his hand away from my feminine parts. As if he had been burnt.

He snapped his eyes towards my face, his eyes wide as he saw me looking at him calmly and asked hurriedly - with a touch of fear, "What are you doing?" before a low growl started in the depth of his lungs, gradually building into a roar.

It was horrible to hear that terror in Max's voice. To see the fear on Max's face. Even if I knew that it wasn't Max. He was rapidly pulling away from me, looking down at his minimally clothed body as his screaming intensified.

Heat was pulsating through me, forming drops of sweat on my forehead, increasing my breath and fueling my self-confidence.

I pushed myself up into seated position before moving to my knees, directing my hand out towards the person I assumed was Sean - who was still impersonating Max - much the same as he had aimed his hand at Max (with the intention of killing him) just before I had jumped in front of him.

I had to concentrate to see beyond Max's face as he continued screaming, staggering backwards, his features contorting in horrible pain. I imagined heat flowing down the length of my arm, into the tips of my fingers and streaming across the chilled air of the room towards Sean's body.

I don't know how it worked. I don't know how I was doing what I was doing, but I could see Max's skin blistering in front of my eyes, his screams never-ending, his legs giving out underneath him as his back hit the far end of the room.

I was so consumed with what was happening, so focused on what I was doing, too caught up into getting him away from me, to ascertain that he would not be able to hurt me anymore, that I didn't pay much attention to the front door.

Or Sean's father that was running through the gaping doorway in response to his son's screams of death.

In the same moment as he raised his hand towards me, I moved my arm away from Sean and redirected it towards his father, my body trembling from the energy being used and having been spent.

But I was too late. I was too untrained. Too unused to the power.

Too human.

The Sergeant's blast knocked me in the chest and flung me backwards like a useless bug. The blast was not as strong, not lethal, as the one Sean had shot at me at the meeting. But it was still strong enough to knock me out cold.

My last thought before I succumbed to unconsciousness was, _He wants me alive._

The voices were dulled and dimmed around me, as they moved in and out of my awareness. The light was bright behind my eyelids and the moan from my mouth was loud in my ears as I started moving.

"What about the girl?" I heard a familiar voice ask.

"What about her? She's gotten what she deserved."

"She's injured."

"Yes."

"She's a gaea." The voice was calm, but there was a trace of frustration in it. "She needs her health."

"Considering what she just did to my son, she doesn't need any more health. She's obviously strong enough."

I groaned and willed my eyes to open.

"Besides, you're not in a position to have an opinion about that girl, Philip. The only reason you're here is to heal."

"How do you expect her to survive, to have the mental ability to successfully bond with your son, if her mind is damaged?"

"We aim to erase her memories of everything stressful later. After we've broken through."

"How?" There was incredulity in his voice, almost mockery. And I recognized his voice now. It was Mr. Evans.

That recognition got my eyes to snap open and I shot up into a seated position. My eyes flickered around the room until I found Philip Evans' eyes over by the door. I vaguely registered the Sergeant standing next to him, as I locked eyes with Max's father.

There was a flicker of something warm in his eyes as he met my fearful stare while he continued to address the Sergeant. "How do you plan on erasing her mind if she's proven so difficult to connect with?"

The Sergeant sighed and followed Mr. Evans' gaze towards me. There was no emotion in Steven Carter's eyes upon seeing me conscious and alert. He just continued talking like I wasn't even there. "Sometimes I wonder if you don't just act stupid, but if you really are. I said; _after_. We'll erase her memory _after_ we've broken the bond. When Sean will have full access to her mind."

I followed Mr. Evans' eyes as they moved to a seated version of Sean. Yes, Sean. He was back to his regular blond and blue-eyed shape. His back was propped up against the wall and there was no sign of any burns on his skin. He looked shaken though, his eyes tracing the floor in front of his pulled up knees.

"Do you really think that Sean still wants to get close to her?" Mr. Evans said and there was the hint of a smirk on his lips.

"If he doesn't, _I'll_ bond with her," the Sergeant said, his words hitting me equally hard as his blast had done earlier.

I felt the air leave me with a gasp and I felt Mr. Evans' eyes on my face at the sound of it. But my eyes were focused on the Sergeant as I was seeing images of how he had treated my mother flash before my inner eye.

I realized that I wanted Sean now. If given the choice, I would 'prefer' Sean over his father.

"Hmm," Mr. Evans voiced impassively, and redirected the conversation. "I still recommend that I take a look at her. We don't want her to have any life-threatening injuries. We don't want our only gaea to die from internal bleeding, do we?"

The Sergeant hesitated, but agreed after a few seconds, "Only a look-through. No healing of superficial damages. We need her weak. Even more now than before."

The Sergeant turned his attention to his traumatized son while Mr. Evans nodded in affirmation and walked towards me. With his approach - and his silent perusal of my body while crossing the floor - I became aware of myself and looked down to see that I was naked. From the waist down.

I noted bruising on the inside of my thighs, before embarrassment hit me full force and I pulled my knees up to my chest. I hurried to pull Isabel's somewhat large sweatshirt down over my knees to hide my nudity, feeling the urge to cry over how Max's father was seeing me.

Not that it really mattered. I had no idea how many had already seen me in this state while I had been unconscious.

His eyes grew gentle as he walked around the bed and sank down next to me on the mattress. He had positioned himself with the back towards the door, hiding his front from the other two aliens in the room.

My arms were shaking as I hugged them around my knees, looking at him with tears in my burning eyes. Was he my savior? Was he still on our side?

I didn't dare to hope. Didn't have the energy to hope.

"How are you, Liz?" Mr. Evans asked, his voice even. Like he was asking about the weather.

But I recognized the emotion in his eyes. The eyes that - at the moment - reminded me a lot of Max. The emotions the aliens at the door couldn't see.

"I want to die," I whispered, my voice equally emotionless.

He slowly searched my face and I noted how his eyes lingered on my injuries. One by one. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered if he had any information about Max.

"You're not allowed to die," he said slowly and I shivered, tightening my arms around my knees and pulling them further up into my chest.

"Just do what you came here to do," I mumbled, pushing anger into my voice to tell the Sergeant and his son that I didn't appreciate Mr. Evans' presence either.

Because I was still hoping that we were working on some kind of plan here. That Philip Evans was working behind the scenes. And if that was the case, I needed to protect that disguise.

He nodded. "I need to touch you."

I tear spilled out of the corner of my eye and I nodded a slow approval.

He shifted closer on the mattress, leaned forward and cradled my face in his hands. A sob shook me and I squeezed my eyes closed. I hadn't been touched like that in days. With gentleness and care. It threatened to shatter me. I didn't want the moment to end. I didn't want him to ever leave me alone. I wanted him to keep his palms pressed against my cheeks forever.

At least, that was my instinctive reaction.

He didn't ask me to open my eyes. I didn't feel him try to push a connection onto me. We both knew that it wouldn't be possible. He was only searching through my body; scanning me. I could feel him pushing energy into me. Energy that was warming me, sending relief for my pain without affecting the appearance of my wounds, and soothing my fear and anxiety.

Energy that I was pretty sure he wasn't allowed to provide me with.

Before he removed his hands, he leaned closer. My eyes were still closed as I felt the warmth from his proximity against my face as he whispered, "Good job."

I opened my eyes and looked straight into his. I wanted to ask him about Max. And maybe he understood that from the desperation in my eyes, because he added so softly that I had to strain to hear him, "Max is fine."

I struggled to keep my tears in check. I couldn't very well break down into a crying mess. It would look incredibly suspicious. I didn't care that it most likely was a modified truth. 'Fine' was probably not the right description for what must be happening to Max. But at least it meant that he was still alive and maybe not _too_ badly off.

"So? Is she in a critical state?" the Sergeant drawled caustically.

"No," Mr. Evans replied and pulled back from me, removing his hands from my face. Leaving me alone. "Bruising. Malnourishment. Fatigue. Nothing serious."

If I hadn't known better, his matter-of-fact stating of facts would have really hurt me.

But I did know better. Mr. Evans had just complimented me on hurting Sean. Maybe even on making it this far. Mr. Evans was impressed with me and had soothed my pain.

I was not alone. There was still hope.

* * *

I thought a lot about dying during the first ten days of my captivity. If it hadn't been for the connection, I would have refused to eat the small piece of stale bread they were providing me with and stopped drinking water. Letting myself die of dehydration.

I idly wondered if they would notice.

They obviously found me valuable enough to engage in the project of keeping me here, of expending a lot of energy to break into my mind.

On day 10, I was lying on my side on the cool tiled bathroom floor. I had fallen, dizzy from malnutrition, after having bent my head downwards, angling it to the side to drink water directly from the tap.

I was listening to the hollow sounds of water droplets hitting the porcelain surface. One by one.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

 _Liz?_

I moaned. I was not only exhausted. With the lack of nutrition and sleep, I was barely there.

But the voice in my head was persistent, even though it was very far away.

 _Liz?_

"Max," I mumbled, opening my eyes slowly. I stared into the white wall, pulling my scattered thoughts together and reached for that safe place at the back of my mind.

Focusing on thinking my question, rather than speaking it, I thought; _Max?_

There was a pause before his reply came through, wavering in intensity, but relatively clear even in its softness.

 _Don't give up._

There was no mistaking that it was Max. Maybe my mind was starting to play tricks on me, but I honestly didn't care. The relief and love which that one sentence created was enough on its own. Even with the risk of it being a mere hallucination.

 _I love you_.

A harsh sob ripped out of my chest and I pressed my feverish cheek against the cold floor. I concentrated really hard and thought, _I love you too._

I knew that I had managed to 'get through' when a wave of love and relief flooded our connection. I imagined his body curving around mine, spooning our bodies together in a prolonged hug, as I drifted off to sleep.


	66. SIXTY-SIX

_shelley2711 - Hi! Thank you for reading and for leaving me feedback along the way :) I was hoping you would catch up to me by the time I was ready to update so I could send you a **Thank you!** P.S. Your comment on ch. 48 made me blush 3_

 _brokenbride - There you are :-) Missed you. Good to hear that you're all caught up. Thank you for the feedback!_

* * *

 **SIXTY-SIX**

I was roughly pulled back into awareness, my body stiff and cold from laying on the bathroom floor, by the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Adrenaline instantly sharpened my senses and before my eyes were even fully opened, I had scooted my body to the furthest wall away from the door.

It was amazing how quickly your body would become accustomed to instinctively react. To flee.

I was struggling to pull my weak body together, my arms folding around my knees as I pulled myself up into a tight seated position, trying to make my body as small as possible against the wall. The dark figure of a man became visible in the doorframe as the door swung open, and there was an immediate shift in the atmosphere.

The air became thick, more sinister, as the figure blocking my only exit seemed to devour light.

"Good morning, Ms. Parker," the shadow spoke in a dark monotone tone.

I would have recognized that voice anywhere. I had only encountered it on one occasion, but it had been enough to be forever imprinted into my memory, as means of survival.

The white-haired man, surrounding by black color, with an air of oppressive respect and impassion was standing not more than three feet away from me.

Command.

The one in charge of the alien community in Roswell.

The one who I had been unable to read.

The one that insinuated that Max would be punished; no matter what the counterargument.

I hadn't seen that man since the meeting. Since he had told me to go to sleep.

My exhausted mind briefly wished for Sean or even the Sergeant to take Command's place. For them - with their acidic insinuations and angry attempts at controlling my mind - to be the ones to stand in the doorway to the small bathroom instead of the blank version of a fake human being.

Anything was better than the vulnerability and exposure I was feeling right now. The fear that was pressing down on my chest; the fear that he was here to not only deliver my verdict but maybe even execute it.

When I didn't respond, the shape of Command continued forward, taking a step into the bathroom, into the stark bathroom light. He stopped in the middle of the room, his back straight, with the white light making the whiteness of his hair sting my eyes. His blue eyes were transfixed on my face, slowly moving across my features.

If it weren't for his expressionless face, I might have thought he was sizing me up. Almost as though he was hungrily observing a meal. I don't know where that feeling came from, considering he wasn't giving me any indication of his feelings (if he had any...), but it made me press my back further into the cold tiled wall behind me, feeling so scared that I could barely remember how to keep on breathing.

"Are you going to kill me?" I whispered, my own fearful voice making my eyes tear.

This was it. They were fed up with me. They had reached their maximum level of patience.

I thought I would be relieved at the thought of them ending my life - ending my misery - but when actually faced with that reality I realized that I didn't want to die. I had my whole life ahead of me. I wanted to live.

I wanted to live.

"We are quite perplexed by you, Ms. Parker," Command stated without addressing my fear. "Even with efforts of weakening the bodies of both you and Max Evans, your connection has remained. The reports have shown a weakening due to the physical distance between you, but the distance alone has not been enough to facilitate in us breaking the bond."

 _Physical distance?_ my tired mind slowly considered. Which meant that Max might (geographically) be very far away for them to consider it a factor in trying to weaken our connection. Where was he? Where was Max?

"Curiously," Command continued in his eerily unemotional voice, "attempts at immobilizing Mr. Evans - in the hopes that _he_ was the one keeping the connection alive - were only semi-successful."

I hated to think of what _immobilizing_ meant.

"Actually, it seemed to only strengthen _your_ part of the connection, Ms. Parker."

The burning. He was referring to me being able to burn Sean - even without Max's 'assistance'.

I had been right then. Max _had_ been 'immobilized' (as they called it) while Sean had almost succeeded in 'copulating' with me.

"Something we haven't seen before," Command finished.

I wet my dry lips and blinked slowly against my fatigue. I would have felt vulnerable in either case, but considering my seriously weakened condition, I was certain that Command would be able to do anything he wanted to me.

But for some reason, I suspected that he was not interested in killing me. He would not be divulging all of this information if he was.

"What do you want from me?" I whispered.

I barely reacted as I felt my body being lifted off the floor. I had entered an odd phase of my existence where their treatment of my body had reached a state of apathetic resignation, bordering on a state of normalcy. Making me not only expect, but also accept, their presumption that they could treat me however they wished.

Command was still in the middle of the room, several feet away from me, as I continued to levitate. I felt pressure across the front of my shoulders, across the top of my chest, as if some invisible hands were grabbing me and pushing me upwards. My back was sliding along the cold wall, my arms and legs hanging limply downwards in response to gravity.

"It surprises me that your body remains so easily manipulated even when your mind is closed off," Command continued.

"If you can't access my mind, how were you able to make me unconscious at the meeting?" I whispered, the pressure over my shoulders, over my chest, imitating the pressure of an anxiety attack which made it hard for me to breathe. Made it hard for me to focus.

"You are quite inquisitive," Command said. "I've been told you are, but perhaps your hunger for knowledge is adding to your strength in the bond."

I failed to take the deep breath I needed and swallowed instead, my breaths fluttering insufficiently at the top of my lungs. "With all due respect, sir, you've firmly displayed your power. Now, please, let me down."

Command smiled.

 _Smiled_.

I instantly regretted having wished that Command would show some emotions, some feelings.

The smile was the technical result of pulling the corners of the mouth north, letting the lips stretch over the teeth. It made him look like a madman; the smile as wide as that of the painted one of the Joker in a Batman movie. But there was no spark in his eyes, no connection between what his mouth was attempting to say and what his eyes were saying.

My body grew cold. Even if I had no voluntary control over my body, I could feel the goosebumps explode across every inch of my skin.

I had heard once that people could die from fear. If so, would I be one of them?

"I do not need to access your mind to make you unconscious, Ms. Parker," he spoke in a light breathy voice, the smile remaining on his face, strained and unnatural. "Your human mind needs oxygen to function, which is delivered by your blood. I only need to momentarily cut off that supply to shut off your brain."

Oxygen deprivation.

Even if I unconsciously already knew that a large number of the aliens probably could kill me without laying a hand on me, it was terrifying to actually hear it. That he could possibly stop my heart right now if he wanted to.

"Why would you need to be able to shoot energy at each other if all you have to do is _think_ someone should die and they would?"

The smile stretched larger on his face. Was he amused? Amused by my questions?

I guessed in a way it probably was out of the ordinary. I was suspended in the air, my back pressed up against a wall with no control over my body, and I was asking questions.

But it was the only way I could stop myself from disintegrating by fear. Denial might be my sole savior under these circumstances.

"I believe that young Mr. Evans has informed you of my stance. Of my abilities. They are not the same as the rest of the community. My mind is far stronger than theirs."

I struggled to get another breath in. "How about you use that strength of yours to do something good?" My body was shutting down due to me being unable to take full breaths, but despite the lack of oxygen I added quickly, "Sir," not wanting to unnecessarily piss him off. Who knew what that man might do to me if I were to awaken some unpleasant emotions in him?

He looked at me in silence for a couple of seconds before he turned off the smile. That's what it looked like. Like turning a switch.

"We are attempting something new, Ms. Parker."

 _Oh no..._

Out of his pocket, he pulled out a syringe. It was small and contained a clear fluid.

 _No..._ my mind protested weakly.

"Some things can't be done without access to your mind, however," Command continued and I felt myself slide down the wall until my feet almost touched the ground.

The tips of my toes brushed against the cold flooring as he slowly closed the distance between our bodies. I could only look forward, which forced me to stare at his chest as he towered up in front of me.

"Let's put this directly into your blood for a quicker effect," he said slowly. Even though I knew it was fruitless, I tried to will my body to respond. To struggle. To show my objection to this.

What was in the syringe? Something that would change how I saw the world? Something lethal? Something that would make me lose control over the bond? Make it easier for them to break it?

I felt the prickle against my neck as the syringe was fed into my jugular vein and the effect was immediate as the fluid was injected into my bloodstream.

His control over my body was released as the injection started to spread through my system. I slowly sank to the floor into a weak mass of limbs. The room was spinning around me and my vision was turning blurry, then clear, then blurry.

His voice sounded off-key and wobbled with the air around me as he announced, "We are going on a journey, Ms. Parker."

* * *

I had been transported by car. They hadn't blindfolded me or made any attempts at preventing me from seeing where I was going, but they probably knew that I wouldn't have been able to keep track of it anyway. Whatever I had been injected with was swirling through my blood, making me weak and slow in my movements. My mind was too muddled to be able to accurately think through what was happening or analyze what they had given me.

My legs were not holding me up as I was dragged along a long dark corridor, after having been pulled out of a four-wheel-drive and roughly maneuvered into a building. It was dark outside. That's about all I could discern with my eyesight cloudy and unstable.

After what seemed an eternity at the same time as an instant, I was roughly shoved into a dark room. My weak legs folded as soon as their hands let go of me and they didn't even bother to move my feet out of the way before they pulled the door closed behind me. The door collided with my bare feet, the impact resonating up the bones of my legs and shooting pain up my spine.

My cheek was to the floor. The floor was moving. At least in my world.

I was fighting sleep. I couldn't sleep right now. I needed to find out where I was.

I pushed my fingers into the concrete flooring and tried to pull myself closer to the door. I was intending to scream at them, but my "Let me out," barely passed my lips before my cheek fell heavily back to the floor.

"Please, let me out," I whispered against the floor.

Even in my drugged state, I could tell that this room was a lot worse than my previous accommodation. This was not a room one lived in. The floor was cold and hard, the hollow sound from the door closing earlier, echoing off the walls, and the magnification of the small rustling sounds my own body made, informed me of the bareness of the area.

The suffocating darkness was not helping the least.

A tremble went through me, my body trying to convince me to give in. Begging me. I was so tired. I pulled on my strength to move an inch forward and put my mouth against the small crack between the door and the doorframe, weakly speaking through the hole to the outside, "You can't keep me in here."

Then something touched my arm and when the scream of deep fear failed me due to lack of energy, a frightful gasp bounced off the oppressive silence in its place.

"Liz?"

I froze, my weak slow pulse rushing through my head while my sluggish mind was considering all the possibilities of who would be impersonating him this time. Who was occupying this dark room with me?

Because it couldn't be Max.

The floor wobbled under my body, the rush of adrenaline through a semi-sedated body having pulled on the last piece of its resistance, and I could feel myself losing the grip on consciousness.

"You're here," the voice whispered, but the touch against my arm remained frozen, as if the person could sense my fear and my suspicion towards his true identity.

The tears running down my cheeks were warm against my cold cheeks as I let my eyes close and whispered, "Don't pretend to be him. Please."

A (warm) hand brushed down my cheek ever so tenderly and my body sighed in hopeful relief. My body was a lot more inclined to believing it was him than my mind was.

"Turn into someone else. Anyone. Please."

Behind my closed eyelids, my world was dark and muddy. Confused and frightened. But slowly, colors were lighting up before my inner eye. Red that turned into blue, that swirled into warm yellow and quickly exploded into white. A bright white light that obliterated any darkness in my mind.

My eyes flew open, blind in the darkness of the room, but no longer blind to who was next to me.

There was no longer any chance of denying the increasing sound of the connection, the very present aggravated and fearful thoughts and feelings that were not only my own.

"Max?" I sobbed, my voice breaking.

"You're here," he repeated, in that voice that I had missed so much. Emotional and warm.

My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and I searched out his face, the emotions in his eyes visible even in the meager light, before he recognized the permission in my eyes, scooped his hands in my armpits and hauled me up onto his lap.

A tremble rocked me as my numb body sank into his, his feelings shooting straight into my heart like rays of life while his arms tightly encased me. I whimpered as he pressed his face into the side of my neck, whispering fervently, "Thank God."

His embrace was so tight that I could hardly breathe. But when choosing between air and Max, I would choose Max. Every time.

It was him. There was no doubt in my mind. Not a single thread.

It was not like my hold on him was any lighter. My arms were tight around his waist, as were my legs around his hips, as I longed to crawl inside of him. Longed to merge into his body through osmosis. Or something.

He was kissing my neck - small, hurried, kisses - his hands traveling to bury in my hair as my resolve broke and I started crying. My sobs hitched on my breaths and I clenched his sweater into my hands at his back.

"Baby," he whispered brokenly against my ear and my tears flowed harder. I felt his tears hitting my neck before he pulled back and started kissing the tears on my face away.

Everything was hitting me at once. Every beating I hadn't let myself cry over, every beating that I _had_. The fear that had nestled itself into my heart like a permanent parasite. The visions of my mom and how she had been abused. The mind games both Sean and his father had played and the constant fear of what would happen to Max. If they would eventually give up on trying to reform him, decide that it was not that important to have a healer if he was going to be rebellious, and consequently decide to kill him.

I cried about that he was finally here with me. Not just a buzz in my head, a stream of faint feelings and bittersweet memories, but here with me - _in person._ Warm, gentle, passionate, worried, strong, beautiful Max.

His fingers brushed at my hair, brushed it away from the tears wetting my cheeks, and kissed my eyelids. The franticness of his movements had calmed and he slowly kissed the sides of my mouth before kissing my lips. Softly. Reverently. As if he was afraid that I would disintegrate if he was too hurried, too forceful.

I bathed in his feelings, in his thoughts. At the moment they were all focused on me, on us. Except for his fear about what had happened to me, there were no signs of what he had been through during our separation. And I was happy about that. We needed _us_ right now. Not the painful ghosts of what we'd been subjected to.

That was bound to come later.

I heard his thoughts whisper about it being too dangerous this close to the door, before he lifted our tangled bodies off the hard cold floor and walked us over to a corner. The darkness was suffocating around us as I clung to him, my legs wrapped around his waist, not intending to ever let him go again. He seemed happy about that arrangement, because he wouldn't even let me go in order to sink down in the corner of that room.

My tears were rapidly wearing me out. I hadn't had a proper meal in eleven days and with my jailers' schedule of constantly waking me up - as part of their torture - meant that I had no energy left.

Max must've felt me fading away, my body growing limp in his arms. He quietly lifted me, giving me a fright at first, having to deal with a small freak-out on my behalf about me not leaving him, before he had calmed me down enough to seat me back on his lap.

Only now my side was to his front, my legs draped off his thighs and his arms around my upper body as he pulled his legs up - capturing me in a protective fortress made of Max.

"Sleep," he whispered when he felt me resisting.

Even if I hadn't been injected with something, it would have been difficult for me to continue resisting the intruding sleep.

"No," I answered faintly, barely managing to voice that one word.

So tired. I was so tired.

But also very used to not letting my guard down. And deathly afraid that Max would disappear while I was asleep.

"I'm not letting you go," he said fiercely, his grip automatically tightening. "I'm not letting you go."

And even though I didn't want to waste any seconds on sleeping that could be spent on being awake with Max, my body couldn't resist that natural (and pharmaceutically induced) pull any longer and I submitted to unconsciousness.


	67. SIXTY-SEVEN

_"Guest" - Thank you so much for the feedback!_

 _brokenbride - Thank you so much!_

 ** _Merry Christmas everyone!_**

* * *

 **SIXTY-SEVEN**

I didn't sleep for long, my rest fitful even in the soft and warm human-alien bed I was in.

The last two weeks had completely fried my nerves and even with the constant connection feeding love even into my dreams, I couldn't let myself relax.

So it was no wonder that I awoke with a startled scream, with the phantom feeling of Sean kicking me in the back - projected from my memory - turned into a nightmare.

"Liz." Max's voice was hushed, regretful, as he tenderly brushed the tears from my nightmare away with the pads of his fingers.

Slowly I became aware of my new reality. When I was no longer woken up by my tormentors, but instead being woken up cradled in Max's embrace. Our connection was soothing my mind, preparing me for his presence even before I fully awoke. Helping me to not react in panic at the fact that someone was holding me.

The room was still dark and with my increasing level of awareness, I started to take in my new surroundings.

Is this where Max had been this whole time? In this darkness?

 _Yes_ , he whispered in my mind.

I blinked up to his face, documenting the changes to his features. There were dark circles under his eyes, his face was thin, his cheekbones were protruding and he had a beard. Almost. The facial hair cast shadows on his face that made him look not only older, but also darker, more haunted, and thinner.

I brought my hand up and brushed it slowly through his hair. I swallowed back the urge to cry anew.

"What have they done to you?" I asked sadly.

I could only assume that they had treated him worse than me, since he was part of their society. They didn't have to consider cover stories when it concerned Max. At least not to the same degree as they would with me.

"It's nothing," he murmured, covering my searching hand with his and bringing it to his mouth to adore it with a soft kiss.

Even the anger that usually burnt so hotly through him that it should be exploding through our connection with intensity, was subdued. He was not himself. Not by a long-shot.

His anger about how I had been treated was tinged not only with fatigue, but also guilt and self-hate.

He was blaming himself.

I crushed my body closer against his, pressing my nose into the curve of his neck and screwed my eyes tightly closed. I could feel his life force pulsate against the tip of my cold nose and hear his breathing against my ear. His smell was all around me, giving me the illusion of safety and a sense of home. Even when our situation was far from it.

My arms were around his waist and I pushed my hands up underneath his shirt, up along the taut and tense muscles of his back, my heartbeat throbbing through my chest at the implied strength of his body as well as in response to the small tremors that betrayed his ever-present guilt.

My short escape to sleep hadn't been enough to alleviate my chronic fatigue, but had helped to clear my head of the blurriness that whatever I had been injected with had created. My thoughts were a lot clearer, even though they were slower than they would have been if I hadn't been running on so little sleep.

"I love you," I whispered against his neck, feeling the tightness in his throat and how his arms contracted around me.

His voice was strained, as if he had trouble getting the words out. "They haven't given you any food."

My shaky breath brushed against his skin. "Enough for me to stay alive."

Because starving me was not the worst of it. And he was reading it all in my mind. _Seeing it_ , like some horror motion picture in his head. But my thoughts jumped so quickly back and forth that it became an incomplete account of torment.

He stopped breathing and I tried to stop thinking. Tried to will the images of my mom's abuse and of my own abuse away. I even attempted the blocking thing that I had succeeded with on a blanket in a dark desert not too long ago.

But I was pathetically unsuccessful.

I felt his fingernails dig into my back as his fingers slowly curled into my sweater. I felt the tremors in his body intensify and grow more uncontrolled. The fire I had looked for earlier was quickly igniting in him now as he saw what Sean had done to me. Witnessed what Sean almost had been successful in doing.

He inhaled sharply before a loud dull sound made me jump in his tight hold.

Ghostly pain spread through my hand as he tensely said, "Sorry. Sorry." He had slammed his fist into the floor.

He was taking deep breaths, controlled breaths. But even when his anger was overriding the connection, making me feel like I was almost on fire, he didn't scare me. It would have scared me before, but I knew that he would never hurt me. Consciously or unconsciously. I knew that his love for me was the reason for his anger.

So I just held on, trying to push my love through the connection, make it blend with the anger and guilt in an attempt to cool the overwhelming fury.

"Kiss me," he choked, barely getting the words out in the midst of his harsh breathing. In the midst of his efforts to control himself.

I lifted my face from his neck and looked at him in confusion. Why, when I could tell that he mostly wanted to put his fist through a wall, did he want me to kiss him?

I barely had time to open my mouth to ascertain that he had just said what I had thought he said before he basically attacked me.

His lips were warm and hot against mine. Desperate and unrestrained. His breaths harsh in the short fractions of seconds when he would change angle in how he would taste me. His hands were underneath my shirt, running up my back, fingers pressing into my shoulder blades, making the front of my shirt strain against my breasts while he used his hands to press my upper body tighter against his.

My tears were melting into our kisses and I was using my own hands on his back to reciprocate his need for proximity. _Our need_ for proximity.

Until I realized that I wasn't the one crying. I was too caught up in his emotions, in him, to react to anything within myself.

It was Max's tears, Max's desperation that was seeping through our beautiful bond.

"Max," I got out while locked in his frustratedly passionate adoration of my mouth.

"Fuck," he mumbled as he let my lips go, only to kiss down my jawline, down my neck, his hands moving inside my sweater, up over my shoulders and tightening over my protruding collarbones.

"Max, stop," I whispered, my lips sore from his despair.

When he didn't, his first audible sob ripping painfully through my heart, I put my hands between our bodies and pushed at his chest.

Gently. Carefully. Trying to get through to him.

The distance separated his mouth from my neck and I gasped as his teary eyes met mine.

"Max..." I repeated, my love and concern for him breaking through that simple voicing of his name.

He let out a shaky breath, a tear rolling down his cheek, before he lifted me off his lap and pushed himself to his feet. I felt the coldness of the floor seep into my seated body as I worriedly watched him quickly approach the door and slam his fists into it.

" _You bastards!_ "

His bellow ripped through me and I flinched in the bareness of the room. I watched the thin lines of his back, the tension of his neck and the anger in his assault upon the innocent door, and felt like I was watching a wounded animal. A betrayed, wounded animal.

" _You fucking sons of a-_ " His voice cut off abruptly as he swirled around and walked up to one corner of the room, looking straight into the top of the corner as he yelled, "She had _nothing_ to do with this! She's _human_ , you fucking cowards!"

Adrenaline was shooting through my veins and I knew that I probably should be frightened by his violent behavior, but the camera situated in the top of that corner - a red blinking light indicating that it was recording his 'message' - was scaring me more than Max's loss of control ever could.

He took a deep breath, fisted his hands along his side, momentarily dropping his head in what seemed to be an attempt at trying to collect himself, before he slowly raised his face to the camera.

I immediately recognized the more familiar controlled version of Max. The public Max. The one that was barely fazed by anything.

His demand was leveled. Even. Almost cold. "You will bring us some food. Right now."

My eyes flickered to the door on reflex, almost anticipating the door would open immediately. His demand had been authoritative enough for me to believe it.

But of course, the door didn't open.

Instead, Max added for whoever was watching, "I don't know what you're planning to do now, with us together, but I can promise you this - we won't make it easy on you. We might have been willing to cooperate before, but not anymore. Not anymore."

I swallowed, hugging my knees to my chest.

He must have felt my chill through the connection, because he looked over his shoulder at me, our breath catching as our eyes met.

He held my eyes for a long moment, making my eyes teary with the look, even though the darkness made it difficult for me to see him. His feelings across the connection were filling in the blanks.

Turning his head back to the camera, his next announcement was not only a threat. It was a promise. "And Sean? You're dead. You hear me? You won't ever lay a hand on her again."

His threat made my tears run over, a sob ripping through my chest, and he was a blurry figure through the wetness in my eyes as he turned and quickly closed the distance between us.

I didn't really know how to handle the feelings. The feelings brought about by him defending me. By being prepared to break his personal ethics of never doing harm and absolutely never killing anyone, to keep me safe. To avenge me. Knowing that I must look horribly damaged for him to react this way, as though they had already killed me.

He sank down on his knees in front of me and his eyes burnt through me. The anger was being pushed back, he was reclaiming the control over his feelings, and all I could think about was:

 _What if they already did? What if they had already robbed me of my ability to ever feel alive again?_

"They're idiots," he mumbled, his hands brushing through my hair before wiping at my tears. "They're stupider than I thought." He kissed me gently on my cheek, just below my right eye, before adding, "Why would they bring us together? When there's the possibility that we might present more of a danger to them together?"

"Why?" I whispered with a snivel, watching his face closely as his eyes skittered across mine, as if he was tracing the details of my face, the faint reminders of my physical injuries.

My thoughts echoed his musings, _Why would they bring us together?_

His flickering gaze stilled, locking with mine, and after a prolonged pause he said slowly, "It's another experiment. Another test."

I was holding my breath. He looked down at his finger as it slowly brushed over my bottom lip.

There was a frown between his eyebrows as he tried to solve the puzzle. Tried to get into the minds of our captors. "They figured out that the bond can't be broken so they want to see what we can do together. If our bond can be an asset to them." He looked up at me, looking worried and angry all at once. "That must be it. That's the only thing I can think of."

It didn't frighten me. Not even the thought of more time in captivity. Of being part of a test.

It didn't frighten me because I wasn't alone anymore.

He shook his head slowly, trailing the pad of his thumb along my right cheekbone, warmth creeping into his haunted eyes as he mumbled, "You're so reckless. And brave. Stupid, really."

I frowned. _Stupid?_

But before I could comment, he clarified, "Thank you for saving my life."

Me jumping in front of him. Taking the hit from Sean. Of course Max hadn't been happy about that. He must have been furious with me at some point, risking my life to save his.

What had he said? That night in the desert? That life wasn't some kind of romance novel. That there was no such thing as sacrificing yourself for someone else.

And to his 'dismay', I had gone straight ahead and proved him wrong.

"I still owe you," I said.

He had healed me twice. Saved my life twice. And that was ignoring the numerous acts of keeping me away from Sean.

Fear rippled across his features and shook our connection. "I hope you never will be faced with the opportunity to repay me in full."

I slowly nodded, biting my lower lip to control my tears, "Me neither."

He leaned in and used his lips to nibble my restrained lip free from my teeth, gently caressing my mouth with his before letting the words whisper across my lips in a caress, "But it could never be about some weird life-debt between us."

No. Of course not. All that mattered was that we were both alive. That, for whatever reason, they had put us back together.

"I know," I agreed solemnly. It didn't matter who saved who and how many times. What mattered was that, in the end, we both survived.

He lifted his hands, where they had been resting on the top of his thighs, to flutter them across my face. His eyes traced the movements while my own fluttered close at the caress. At the love in his touch, the tenderness that was second nature to him.

"I want to heal you," he whispered sadly when his hands reached my shoulders, moving down my shivering arms.

 _You have to save your energy_ , my mind told him. He was exhausted, just like me. He needed to save the energy he had. Who knew what might happen if he took the healing too far (which he had a tendency to do), and he would fall unconscious and I-

My eyes snapped open and I flinched back from his touch. I saw the fearful confusion in the line between his eyebrows and I gasped, "Don't heal me. No."

If he would empty all his energy into me, losing his own grip on consciousness, he was not only in danger of not waking up, but he would be completely at the mercy of our captors. And so would I. Without his powers (however subdued they might be), I would be completely at the mercy of those evil men. Just like before.

"I'm fine," I added hurriedly, capturing his hands in mine, interlacing our fingers, and pulling them away from my body. Signaling that he shouldn't even attempt to try.

But I knew that he wouldn't do anything like that against my will.

"I can't," he said slowly, his fingers tightening against mine. He pulled our entwined hands towards his chest, pressing them up against his heart, making my body pull forward so that he could kiss me.

What did he mean?

As his lips traveled over mine, his voice was clear in my mind, _They've done something to my powers. I have no powers._

My fearful gasp drowned in his mouth and the fear froze my body.

 _Don't be scared_ , he begged me soberly, his lips kissing down my jaw.

Don't be scared? Don't be scared?

Tremors started in my shoulders and moved out through my whole body.

We had no protection.

They could still do whatever they wanted to us. A horrible thought flickered through my mind, born from the sadistic nature I had seen in our captors.

What if they would torture Max in front of me?

He let go of my hands and brought his arms around me, pulling me up on his lap and hugging me close. I breathed in his smell and tried to will myself to let go of the fear. Otherwise it would immobilize me.

 _Our connection is our protection_ , he told me, nuzzling his nose against the thin sensitive skin behind my ear. _Our connection is still alive._

He was right. I hadn't thought of that.

I frowned, putting my arms around his waist and inching closer. _How?_

 _I don't know_ , he replied. _But it's our leverage. They might not even be aware of it_.

That's why he was speaking to me telepathically. In case they were listening. In case they thought they had managed to silence the connection as well, if it had been connected to Max's abilities.

Apparently it wasn't, since the connection between us was still very much alive and kicking.

Max pulled back and pressed his forehead against mine. Looking up through his eyelashes at me, his mental voice was concerned as he stated questioningly, _They did something to you._

His right arm left my back and ghosted over the tender injection site on my neck. How could he tell?

He used that same hand to brush my hair back and replied, _You were almost unconscious - should have been unconscious - when they brought you here._

Of course. Of course he hadn't just assumed it was because I was tired or frightened.

"You smell different," he whispered.

A small tentative smile moved over my lips - the first one in days - at his clarification. It almost felt odd to smile, to have it play in the corners of my mouth as I narrowed my eyes at him. "I haven't showered in a couple of days."

His matching smile was just as wobbly as mine. "I don't mind that." His eyes brightened with the glimpse of life that they had been lacking. "I love how you smell."

I brought my hands up to have them run over his face and slowly trace the contours of his features. His cheekbones, the straight line of his nose. Letting the ends of his eyelashes tickle my fingertips. I had lost hope that I would ever be able to touch him again.

The playfulness I had only just started to experience around him - before we were taken - was slowly awakening. It was odd in the midst of our current situation, but I welcomed it. It was a piece of normalcy. I slowly dragged my right thumb along the partition between his lips and he pursed his lips around my thumb, kissing it slowly as I asked, "Buuut...?", my eyes fixed on his mouth, my body growing warm while positioned on his lap.

The smile that had hesitantly lingered on his face disappeared and he turned serious. "You smell like chemicals."

I swallowed, my own smile dying as quickly as one would blow out a candle.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes sad and deep. "And your colors are all wrong."

With his thoughts brushing through my mind, I consider what he was thinking, and my own previous observations and reflections, before I slowly reached a (slightly mind-blowing) realization.

"They were afraid of me."

My declaration was subdued and surprised, but his expression told me that he had reached the same conclusion.

"They drugged me because they were afraid of me."

He nodded and I frowned at the inconsistencies with that action. "But why wouldn't they just knock me out like before?"

He frowned, deep in thought, and I concentrated while trying to catch onto his mind process. After a lengthy pause, he hypothesized, "Maybe they've reached the conclusion that whatever you can do - through the connection - cannot be controlled by whatever is controlling my powers right now. So they needed a more human way of subduing it."

Silently, he added, _They needed to suppress the connection from both sides. Mine, by turning off my powers. And yours, by pharmaceutically affecting the parts of your brain that might be involved in the connection._

 _It doesn't make sense..._

 _What doesn't?_

 _If they really reunited us to see what the bond could do, why would they attempt to repress it?_

 _I think it's temporary. To be able to move you without the bond facilitating an escape on your part._ He smiled weakly. _To make sure you didn't hurt them._

I swallowed, thinking of the injection. "And it's still in my system?" Even though I felt fine now?

He nodded. "Yeah. It's there."

"So I can't utilize the connection anymore?" I frowned. Before he had a chance to answer, I added secretly, _But why can we communicate like this then?_

He gave me a knowing half-smile. Almost a triumphant one. _Maybe they are wrong. Completely wrong. Because they think that they have 'turned off' not only your side of the connection, but also mine. Just by turning off my abilities._

This gave me some hope. That we might know something that our captors didn't.

I traced the blue beneath his eyes and felt the sadness run through me. But also the tendrils of hot anger.

"Please tell me," I said quietly. "Tell me what they did to-"

I didn't get any further than that. There was a metallic sound from the door and Max was pulling me to my feet before I had a chance to react to the instinctive adrenaline saturating my system.

 _Stay behind me_ , he ordered sharply while he took my hand in a tight grip and directed me behind his body. _And don't even think about getting in front of me._

His command brought forward some of the Elizabeth Parker I had been just two weeks ago. The one that wanted to object and prove that I was standing on my own two feet. The one that couldn't accept that someone would order me around. Even if it was 'for my own good'.

I had a chance to reflect on his ability to speak to my inner nature, even when he didn't plan to, before I acquiesced to his directive. It was not a difficult thing to do, considering that the memory of me stepping in front of him and taking an alien 'bullet' for him, my dead weight falling back against his body, was being broadcasted in his mind (and mine) right that second.

A ray of yellow light created a line from the opening door to our feet. The light seeped more and more into the dark room as the door slowly opened.

I held onto Max's hand tightly and stepped closer to him, looking around his upper arm at the door. Without blinking.

It didn't come as a surprise that it was the Sergeant and his son who walked through the door. But it _did_ come as a surprise - or rather, a shock - that the Sergeant was holding a gun. A black gun made by the human population. Aimed at us.

The light coming into the room from the open door, creating shadows across our visitors' faces, did nothing to hide the slow malicious smile that spread across the Sergeant's face as he announced, "You rang?"


	68. SIXTY-EIGHT

_shelley2711 - Thank you so much!_

 _Child of Music and Dreams - ;-)_

 _brokenbride - Thank you!_

* * *

 **SIXTY-EIGHT**

Whatever they had done to turn off Max's powers was affecting their powers as well. Which is why they were hiding behind a human weapon.

The reasoning was Max's. Not mine.

Because I couldn't focus on anything but the gun. Aimed at us. Aimed at Max, since he was shielding me behind his body. I had never seen a real gun before. Our family had never owned one. The people who owned guns in town didn't exactly flaunt them.

It wasn't at all like seeing it in the movies or on 'Cops'. Its meaning had changed. It was no longer 'a weapon', it was a lethal threat. It symbolized terror and death.

But Max didn't seem frightened by it. Or maybe he was just hiding it well. Rather, he seemed to grow in confidence by the fact that the Carter men felt the need to bring a gun with them into a room with two starved teenagers who lacked any means of defensive protection.

Max concluded that they were afraid of what he and I could do. Even without Max's powers. Even without human weaponry.

But Max's initial self-assurance quickly turned to anger as his eyes flickered to the adolescent standing behind his father. He took a hasty step forward, making me stumble with the abruptness. With my stumble, he must have realized that I was with him, that I was 'attached' to him.

Otherwise, I was pretty sure he would have attacked Sean, wrath obliterating his rational thought. Probably getting shot in the process. On instinct, I tightened my hand around his and tried to calm my mind in order to calm his.

"You're a sorry excuse for a guy, you know that?" Max sneered with venom.

Partly hidden behind his father, Sean smirked. "I heard you wanted to talk to me?"

"I swear to you," Max breathed, "Once I get out of here, you better hide or-"

Sean's humorless laughter cut off Max's threat, "You really think you're getting out of here?"

"Enough of that," the Sergeant interrupted coldly.

"What are you trying to do?" Max asked, not at all acting the role of the frightened prisoner.

It was impressive. How Max - even without his powers and in his weakened state - could appear more powerful than the armed men holding him captive. He had an inner fire, something that made him strong and stable.

Goodness.

"What's with the hostility, Mr. Evans?" the Sergeant asked, amused. "I thought you would be grateful. After all, we brought you two together. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I want you to let Liz go," Max demanded forcefully.

"No," I declared equally forcefully, cutting off the Sergeant's reply.

Steven Carter looked at me, appearing utterly entertained by us. "Huh? Trouble in paradise? A disagreement?"

 _I'm getting you out_ , Max hissed through the bond.

 _No!_ my voice cut sharply through our minds, making us both wince. I lowered my 'voice' slightly to add, _I'm not leaving without you. It's either both of us or neither of us_.

Max was struggling against this. I could feel it not only in the stubbornness of his thoughts but also in the tension of his body.

"Besides, you really think that I'm letting either of you go?" Sgt. Carter asked, all amusement sliding off his face, leaving his expressions cold and emotionless.

"You're not touching her again," Max answered, unfazed by the Sergeant's taunt.

I saw the quick look Sean shot his father, before Sean looked back at us. I narrowed my eyes at the scene. Sean appeared uncertain. As if he wasn't sure what his father was planning.

This made me nervous.

 _Me too_ , Max acknowledged through the connection.

"Why the gun, Sergeant?" Max asked nonchalantly.

I squeezed Max's fingers tightly. _What are you doing? Don't piss him off!_

The Sergeant wouldn't appreciate Max's tone or attitude.

Max's response was light and almost joking. _What's he going to do? Shoot me?_

 _Yes!_ I yelled at him, starting to become insecure with this side of Max. This version of Max that seemed to be throwing everything to the wind, because he was fed up with the situation. Because he was fed up with me being in pain and being exposed to all of this. He was through with being quasi-respectful, considering that it hadn't seemed to help us before, so why would it now?

Max had decided to change tactics.

I couldn't deny that it frightened me.

"Haven't you noticed?" The Sergeant's tone was clipped, but - surprisingly - he didn't acknowledge Max's contempt. "Your abilities are offline, Mr. Evans."

"And so are yours," Max stated.

"Yes," the Sergeant agreed, anger flickering in his eyes.

He was not too impressed with Max's behavior. Not at all. I very distinctly remembered him telling me that Max was indispensable. Maybe Max had figured that out as well, using it for leverage.

 _I saw it in your thoughts earlier,_ Max replied mentally. _My guess is: he'll be in the doghouse if he kills me._

 _Are you sure?_ I asked, understanding where his recent boldness was coming from but knowing that some people would act first and think later. The Sergeant - if pushed far enough - might as well pull the trigger (quite literally) and not think of the consequences of that action until it was too late.

 _No, I'm not sure_ , Max replied, a quiet calmness to his thought, which calmed me.

His assurance told me that he had thought this through. That he wouldn't push too far. But that he would be trying as hard as he could to get me out of here.

 _And you. Me and you_.

He brushed his thumb over the side of my index finger. _Hopefully_.

"Remember that your body is just as fragile as a human being's," the Sergeant said and waved the gun slowly in the air in front of him to bring our attention to the weapon, "One bullet in the right place and you've been reduced to a footnote in the Antarian history books."

My eyes kept drifting towards Sean. As before, I considered him a loose cannon - especially around Max. I could only assume that there was a lot of dark history between Max and Sean that made the current situation more than business. Almost more than personal.

Right now Sean was smiling, obviously enjoying the idea of Max's death becoming as insignificant as his life, but there was something really off about Sean. Something more than usual. Something that reminded me of the fraction of a second before he had raised his hand towards Max with the intention of killing him.

This time, Max had the chance to follow my musings, and I could hear the distraction in his thoughts. Of how he couldn't quite ignore Sean, and instead was keeping a close eye on him.

At least we could take comfort in the fact that Sean wasn't holding the gun in addition to being sans supernatural abilities, making him into an adolescent with a chip on his shoulder rather than an alien weapon.

"Really?" Max questioned in fake interest. "A footnote? I guess I should have tried harder to stir the pot then."

"You're our property," the Sergeant stated dryly.

"Okay?" Max inquired incredulously.

"The only chance you have at _ever_ tasting freedom is to follow our orders to the t. No cocky attitude."

"So let me get this straight. Our choices are selling our souls to the devil, or being killed?" Max asked succinctly.

"No," Sgt. Carter said coldly, his voice pushing a shiver down my spine. "We won't let you die."

Maybe this should have comforted us. But considering the Sergeant's tone of voice and his hostile terms, being 'kept alive' on their premises was not a good thing.

Sean stepped out from behind his father, ignored the sharp look his father sent him, and crossed his arms across his chest with a smug grin stretching over his thin lips.

Max took a step back, moving our tightly positioned bodies backwards. His warning was a growl, similar to a dog protecting a pack member. "Don't come any closer."

Sean looked mighty pleased with himself as he pursed his lips and let his eyes dance with cold mirth. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

" _You_ should be afraid to get any closer to _me_ , Carter," Max threw back and I caught the Sergeant rolling his eyes in boredom.

"Do you even know what kind of girl she is, Evans?" Sean asked, looking at me knowingly with his creepy insinuation. "I bet she hasn't told you what she's been doing with me in your absence? That girl is insati-"

I stepped out from behind Max, beating Max to the soapbox. "You perverted creep."

The flames from Max's anger burning under both of our skins was chilled by Max's fear as he sharply pulled on the hand still connected to mine and forced me behind him again.

Sean's laughter was nauseatingly self-righteous in my ears, while my eyes became occupied with the look Max gave me over his shoulder. A promise. A promise that he would (when the opportunity presented itself) free Sean of the burden of life.

 _Unless I do it first_ , my mind whispered back, which had Max narrow his eyes in disapproval at me.

But he didn't know yet what I had managed to do to Sean already. How I had made his skin boil and melt. How he had been needing an alien healer to recover. To even survive. That memory of the outcome of Sean's attempt at raping me was not part of my fearful recollections, not part of the ones that I had accidentally let Max preview earlier.

Max's eyes widened as the memory was displayed to him and the corners of his mouth fluttered in a barely contained smile. I couldn't stop my own from mimicking his. Max was not only impressed with what I had done, he was in awe. Amused awe. I had succeeded in defending myself against an alien, even if it was only a creep like Sean.

It was probably the first time I had read a positive reaction in his mind towards the alienness of our relationship. How our bond had actually helped me escape a horrible situation.

The smile was still on his lips as he turned towards the gleeful Sean.

"Really, Sean? Insatiable, huh?" Max made no effort in hiding the sarcasm or the conceited interest. "You really must have been something else."

I watched Sean's smile slowly slip off his face, his eyes turning hesitant, before they darkened with provoked anger.

"Because she sure as hell never bothered to attempt burning _me_ to death."

"Sean," Sgt. Carter warned, seeing the snap of Sean's weak self-control as easily as we did.

But Sean was running towards us, a growl from the deepest pits of his soul shooting out his mouth, before the Sergeant had a chance to touch him.

Max instantly let go of my hand and pushed me backwards, away from him. Away from Sean. My weak body wobbled from the push, but I remained standing, my balance regained just as Sean rammed his body into Max.

The Sergeant exhaled loudly - and bored - over by the door. "Sean... Don't be an idiot."

Max and Sean were grabbing onto each other like wrestlers, changing grips, aiming hits and avoiding fists.

"Stop!" I yelled, seeing clearly how Max's anger would only get him so far. Max was clearly weakened, and even though he was usually stronger than Sean, Sean had been eating regular meals for weeks.

Max's head whipped to me at my command, pushing his hand out to direct my advance away from them. "Stay away, Liz!"

Which is how he missed when Sean reached into his back pocket to pull out the knife he, within the blink of an eye, jammed into Max's chest.

The pain was sharp and all-consuming.

I stumbled along with Max, but my indirect sensation of the attack was quickly subdued while Max continued stumbling backwards.

"No!" I cried, having the surrealistic feeling of déjà vu. How could this happen again?

"You fucking idiot!" Sgt. Carter yelled from his position and quickly walked up to the crime scene.

Which was only a fitting term, considering that the grey concrete floor was slowly being stained with blood. Max's blood.

The bloodied blade briefly reflected the light from the (still open) door before the father removed the blade from his son. Keeping an eye on the Carter men I saw Max fall to his knees, his hand pressed to his chest, blood seeping out between his fingers.

This can't be happening. This can't be happening.

I don't know how long I stood there. Time seemed to have stopped as I took in the scene, wondering what was real and what wasn't. Wondering what I should do. What I _could_ do. Wondering if the Sergeant was going to finish him off with his gun or if they were going to leave Max to bleed out. If they were going to get Mr. Evans to heal his own son. If they would take me away again.

But it couldn't have been long. Because the Sergeant was tucking away the knife he had retrieved from Sean's grip (a simple kitchen knife...) when I fell to my knees next to Max's bleeding body. He was lying down now, on his back, his breathing harsh.

My hands were shaking as I pressed them on top of his hand, his blood warm and wet as it covered my palms. Straight over his heart. The wound was straight over his heart. Had Sean stabbed his heart?

I couldn't see anything, because at some point I must have started crying. My tears were dripping on his chest while I could barely make out his eyes blinking tiredly at the ceiling. His blood ended up on my face when I tried to remove my tears and I felt our connection fading.

It was a strange feeling. A very uneasy feeling. As if the connection had turned as slippery as the blood flowing out of him. I try to catch onto it, keep it locked with mine, but it did funny things to my heart, making it skip beats and add extra ones in. I was freezing one second and extremely hot the next.

"Stay with me," I cried, my voice contorted by the tears.

Then a hand grasped my shoulder and something was released from my body. I whipped my head around at the feeling of the suffocating vacuum, only to watch Sean and his father sail through the air and hit opposite walls with frighteningly cracking sounds.

I found my breath, letting out a gasp, before I refocused on Max. I didn't care what had happened to Sean and his father. I didn't care if they were dead or only seriously wounded.

All I cared about was Max, who was bleeding out. Who was dying right in front of me. With gasping breaths and blood discoloring the lips that had kissed me not too long ago.

"I'm getting you out of here, okay?" I sniveled, pressing my bloodied palm to his cheek. He momentarily focused his eyes on me before he coughed up blood.

"Don't give up. Please." I swallowed back my fear and tried to will my body to respond. I had to be strong. I had to do this. There was no one else that could do this. "I'll be right back."

Leaving him was the hardest thing I had ever done.

But somehow I got to my feet and stumbled towards the Sergeant. He was laying on his side, an odd angle to his head. His eyes were open, but they were empty. Dead.

He was dead.

I pushed back the feelings this brought forward, ignored that I was about to feel through the man's clothes and started going through his pockets. I found a cell phone in his back pocket.

It was as dead as its owner.

"No..." I sobbed desolately.

My eyes flickered momentarily to Sgt. Carter's face and I froze. The fear that slammed into me was so strong that I got instantly nauseous. In front of my wide eyes, I slowly saw the Sergeant's face change. His mask of human was fading and underneath it was a creature I wouldn't have been able to make up even in my darkest imagination.

With a subdued scream, I scrambled to my feet to run up to Sean.

His eyes were closed, a blood trail from the corner of his mouth, blood running down his forehead. I hurriedly started searching through his clothes - afraid that he might start to change back into an alien soon too - when he snapped his eyes open and tightly grabbed my wrist.

I screamed. Fell on my behind and tried to move myself backwards by the strength of my arms. His grip on me was instantly released and his blue eyes stared at me with deep hatred as he whispered a gurgled, "Bitch..." before his eyes turned vacant and his hand fell heavily to the floor.

I tried to still my heaving sobs, my frightened breaths, and counted to three before I crawled towards him again. He was gone. Dead. I was sure of it. Still, I kept my eyes on his face the whole time I was searching through his clothes.

His cell phone was equally dead.

Whatever I had done to them hadn't only killed them but also their phones.

My and Max's only lifeline.

I clenched my teeth and said tightly to myself, "No, damnit," before running back to Max.

His breaths were haggard and strained. But I decided that strained was better than weak, leaned over him and placed a tear-salted kiss on his mouth, ignoring the blood I could taste on my lips. "I'll be right back. I love you."

"Liz," he croaked and coughed.

"Don't talk," I hushed, brushing my hand across his forehead and down his cheek. "Save your strength. You have to survive this. You _will_ survive this."

He coughed again, meeting my eyes, and I heard his voice flutter through my mind. _I love you too. 'Til death do us part_.

"Damn you," I whispered, his statement making me feel the hopelessness of the situation. He was giving up. I wiped the tears away from my eyes with the back of my hand before pressing both my hands on top of his, which he still kept over the wound.

Looking into his eyes, making sure that he was focusing on me, I whispered hotly, "Don't you _dare_ quit on me, Evans. You hear me? I will never forgive you if you do!"

He coughed as he tried to smile and even though this infuriated me, it also warmed me. He was still trying to grin at me. Make fun of my temper.

 _Deal,_ he whispered through my head and something inside of me broke with relief.

I leaned down and kissed him again, my lips lingering. Not wanting to think about that it might be the last time I kissed him.

Then I was hurrying to get to my feet and run out of the room.

I came out into a semi-dark hallway, lined with doors. The lights were dim and the hallway was quiet. But I couldn't afford to take any chances. So I tried to be as quiet as my dangerously weakened body would allow as I hurried down the hallway, towards the brighter light at the end.

My heart was hammering in my chest, my breathing sounded loud enough to my ears to wake the dead and I was just about to turn the corner at the end of the hallway when I heard voices.

I inhaled deeply and held my breath, immediately looking for an escape route and coming upon the metal sign attached to the wooden door to my left.

Administrative Office.

I turned the handle and tumbled inside, partly not prepared for it to be unlocked.

The room was dark, signaling that it was probably unoccupied. I quietly closed the door behind me and leaned against the door, trying to still my breaths to be able to eavesdrop on the sounds from the hallway.

But the voices I had heard were moving away instead of getting closer.

"Oh my God," I whispered, feeling that my body wanted to relax in this small victory, but knowing that I had to press on. If I gave in now, I would collapse.

I was just about to exit the room when I came to think of that there would probably be telephones in here. Considering that it was an office.

I found the light switch and let the ceiling lamp bathe the room in light. After a quick scan I reconfirmed that the room was empty of humans - and aliens - and that it didn't have any windows. So I didn't have to be afraid of having the light turned on.

On the desk was a phone. And a computer.

I hurried around the desk, grabbed the mouse and agitatedly rustled it. The computer came to life, the universe (or just plain luck) helping me out again by the computer just being on stand-by. No password was needed and I quickly entered the white pages, looking up Philip Evans.

Max's blood stained everything I touched as I grabbed the phone and entered the numbers. I had to try it thrice, my shaking hands pressing the wrong numbers the first time.

"Dr. Evans."

A sob escaped me and I squeezed my hand so tightly into a fist that my nails dug into my palm as I tried to gather my feelings which had collapsed in pieces around me.

"Hello?"

"Max-," I croaked.

"Liz?" his voice turned instantly alarmed as he recognized me. "How did you-"

"Max is hurt," I got out. "He's dying."

I could hear chairs being moved, keys being collected and doors opening, as he bellowed, "Where are you?"

"I don't know," I whimpered. "I don't know."

"Were you taken to Max or was he taken to you?" Mr. Evans asked, his voice strained with tight control.

"I was taken to Max," I answered and felt the need to repeat it, the words breaking with my sobs. "I was taken to Max."

"I'll be right there." He hung up.

My whole body was trembling from exertion and God knows what else as the receiver slid out of my hand and impacted loudly with the desk. My vision was blurry, not just from tears this time, and black spots were taunting me in an alluring death dance.

I took a hold of the edge of the desk, grabbing on tightly, to stop myself from fainting, focusing on taking deep breaths.

Trying to do as Max had always told me to.

Breathe.

My vision cleared some. My legs regained minor strength. Enough to get me out of the room and down the hallway. I was not as careful going back to the room as I had been running out of it. Had someone arrived at that time, they would have taken me by surprise.

But I could only focus on one thing and one thing only. Getting back to Max.

I found a light switch to the room on the outside, next to the entrance, and I flicked it before stumbling weakly into the room.

Max's harsh breaths were the only sounds in the air and it might have been the most beautiful thing I had heard all day. The metallic smell of blood hung heavily in the air and I forced back the wave of nausea that smell of death brought me as I walked past the corpses of the Carter men. I didn't look at them, frightened of what their bodies looked like now. If they had any human characteristics left or if they had completely reverted back to their alien forms.

My knees sunk into the blood pooling next to Max as I rose on my knees over him, pressing my hands onto his chest. Feeling the quick beating of his heart. Quick. Too quick. Beating all the blood out of him.

"Hey," I whispered but got no response. His eyes were opened, but they were focused on the ceiling. I cradled my hand against his cheek and guided his eyes towards mine. "Max?"

 _What took you so long?_ he asked, choosing to speak to me through our bond rather than through the blood in his mouth. He was trying to be funny. Still trying to make light of the situation. Still trying to alleviate my fear.

I pulled the sleeve of my sweater - _Isabel's sweater_ \- down over the back of my hand and tenderly wiped his mouth.

"Help is on the way, okay?" I said. "You can do this, Max."

 _Sean? Sarge?_

"Dead," I answered quietly.

He blinked slowly, his eyes momentarily rolling back in his head (scaring me half to death), before he refocused back on me.

 _How?_ His mind sounded tired. His directed thoughts weak.

 _I killed them_ , I replied, a wave of guilt accompanying that confession.

But I quickly pushed it away. I couldn't focus on that right now. On the fact that I had killed someone.

 _Don't..._ his mind whispered and he coughed.

I caught the blood he coughed up with my sleeve, before returning my hand to his chest to keep on pressing. To keep the blood inside of him.

"Shh, I'm not," I replied. "Save your energy. Stop talking."

 _I'm not talking_ , he objected teasingly and I rolled my eyes at him.

A sob wrenched through me and I croaked. "Don't leave me. Please. Don't leave me."

But he didn't console me this time or offer me any hopes of false security. His sad eyes spoke of what neither his mouth nor his mind could promise me. That he wasn't sure he could make that promise to me right now.

Even though the lights were now on in the room, the darkness seemed even more present. Max's blood gleamed brighter in the light, his face looked paler, the uncoordinated trembles of his body even the more frightening.

I sat there listening to his rough breathing, feeling his rapid heartbeat against my hands as it tried to make up for the loss of blood by pumping faster. I was sending him as much love and strength as I could through the wavering connection. The connection that was making me nauseous. Like being on a rollercoaster.

It seemed like forever until I heard sounds in the hallway. I tensed, anticipating whoever, but hoping that it was the help I had called for. It was Max's last chance. _Our_ last chance.

I had left the door wide open, for me to be able to see straight out into the hallway and down the length of it without leaving Max's side. But my vision was too blurry, too tired, too unfocused, to see who it was before they reached the door.

By then I was already leaning protectively across Max, wondering if I would have to defend him again. Wondering if I would have the strength to.

It was Mr. Evans.

I only saw his haggard face, his haunted eyes as they landed on Max and I, barely noticing the other men entering behind Max's father.

Mr. Evans didn't even glance to the side at the dead bodies, one to the left and one to the right of him, as he ran across the room towards us.

I turned to Max as Mr. Evans sank to his knees on Max's free side. "Your dad is here; everything's gonna be okay."

I met Max's eyes and felt his grateful reassurance through the markedly weakened connection. Then the black spots in my vision turned into pools of darkness, I briefly felt how my body lost its balance (even though seated) and how my cheek impacted with Max's blood on his chest.

That's the last thing I remember.


	69. SIXTY-NINE

_Thank you, everyone, for reading :-)_

 _Wishing you all a Happy New Year! 3 Jo_

* * *

 _Child of Music and Dreams - Don't lose faith... Thank you for the feedback!_

 _shelley2711 - You know Liz... Yes, she won't feel too great over killing someone. Even if they were monsters. Max's fate is coming up. Thank you for the feedback!_

* * *

 **SIXTY-NINE**

I awoke slowly, feeling rested and calm. Swallowing slowly, I kept my eyes closed as I wet my lips.

Then my memories flooded my awareness and my eyes flung open.

"Hey baby girl."

I inhaled sharply, slowly turning my head towards the voice to my left. To the man that was holding my hand.

Dad.

"Dad?" I whispered, my voice breaking from disuse.

He gave me a soft smile, squeezing my hand. "I was so worried."

"What are you-" I stopped to clear my throat, feeling more confused than ever. Had it all been a dream? Was I home? Had it all been a terrible nightmare?

Home... I whipped my head to the side and took in the bareness of the room I was in. "Where am I?"

The room was light, with cream-painted walls and the occasional landscape painting. Daylight was seeping in through partly closed white curtains hanging serenely in front of a window. There wasn't much furniture in the room, but the room was so small there wasn't room for more anyway.

"You're safe," my dad interrupted the quiet reflection of my surroundings.

I frowned and looked back at my father as a horrible feeling had started to spread throughout my body. I felt myself grow cold as I angled slightly away from him, my hand turning limp in his grip.

It couldn't be him. It couldn't be my dad. It must be an alien wearing a Dad-suit. Because my dad shouldn't be here. He didn't belong in this world.

My expression hardened as I held back fresh tears. "Who are you?"

The man's eyes turned confused and then sad before he replied, "Ella. It's me."

Ella. No one else but my dad called me that. But it wouldn't be too difficult for the aliens to find out about that little detail, so it wasn't enough to convince me.

"It's him," a female voice spoke from the doorway, looking at me in sad sympathy.

Isabel.

A large tremble moved through me and I looked from Max's sister to my father. They could be two. They could be two aliens.

"Why is my dad here?"

"He knows," Isabel answered calmly and took a couple of slow steps into the room.

The confusion was frightening me. I felt like I had no control over this situation. How could my father know? Was he involved?

I sat up so quickly that the room spun around me.

"Careful," my father advised and indicated towards the IV-line attached to my hand.

"Tell me something only he would know," I demanded hoarsely - desperately - from the man claiming to be my father.

Tears were wetting his eyes as he nodded in affirmation. "Of course."

He inhaled deeply, paused for a second, trapped in my watchful stare, before he said, "When you were five you decided to move away. Without telling us, of course. So you packed a little bag with an extra pair of socks, a dress, and Mr. Thompson," Mr. Thompson - my teddybear, "and somehow managed to climb down the emergency ladder from your balcony. Your mother and I were worried sick. You were gone for five hours before we found you - asleep - in the restaurant kitchen. You had walked next door, eaten a handful of cookies at old Lucy's and then returned home. But some noise upstairs had scared you. Scared Mr. Thompson. Instead of going upstairs to the apartment, you hid under the counter next to the grill."

He swallowed. "I looked into that frightened face of yours and asked you to promise me something."

I was hanging on to his every word, holding my breath, because I already knew how this story went, but I wanted desperately for him to finish it correctly. To prove that he was my father.

"That if you were ever to move away again, that you would take your mother and me with you." He swallowed, looked both scared and guilty as he added, "And you told me that me and mom were allowed to come, but not the bad men in your room."

A chill ran down my spine.

I knew every detail of this story, because my father had told it to me so many times. But he had never mentioned that added requirement made by the five-year-old me. Still, I could remember it clearly now. I could remember wanting my father to promise that we would be moving alone. Only mom, dad and I.

Hot tears rolled down my cheeks and it was a miracle that my father could even discern my words as I whispered through tears and sobs, "Is it really you?"

"Yes," he whispered back, his tears mimicking mine as he put his arms around me and pulled me into a hug.

I felt the tug on my hand as I wrapped my arms tightly around him, but the uncomfortable sensation was forgotten in lieu of being encased in his warmth. I buried my forehead against his neck and breathed in that familiar smell. That's what finally confirmed it for me. That it was really him. I had learnt from the experience with Sean portraying Max that the personal smell a body emits could not be replicated.

But even in his arms I couldn't really let myself relax. My mind was on high alert, sharply in tune with my surroundings. To always be prepared for any possible sudden threats.

I thought that I would feel safe being with my dad. My parents had always represented safety to me. A girl's father could do anything. Make anything possible. Defend her against all the monsters under her bed and in the darkest unexplored corners of her closet.

But not anymore. The foreign 'visitors' to Earth had robbed me of that innocent feeling of safety.

That realization turned my sobs harder and more desolated, as loneliness and pain twisted my heart.

I cried for me. For Max.

Max.

The shock of seeing my father had completely side-tracked me from what had happened just before I had passed out. I tensed in my father's embrace as I started searching through my head for him. Panic was flooding me, making it hard for me to breathe, as I snapped my head up from dad's shoulder and found Isabel's eyes.

"Where's Max?"

Isabel tried to smile at me, but the insecurity in her eyes betrayed her. "He's fine."

I pulled back from my dad, feeling his concerned eyes on my teary face as I straightened in fear. "No. No. I can't feel him." I could hear my voice raising, turning discordant with my growing panic. My nails were digging into the palms of my hands as my voice bordered on shrill as I squeezed out between limited breaths, "I can't feel him."

Isabel's eyes had turned wider and wider at my response, and she turned and yelled, "Alex!" over her shoulder before she crossed the meager distance to my bed and tried to take my hand.

I pulled it away from her, "No," pressing it to my chest as the painful hyperventilation of anxiety and panic ripped through me. "He's dead." I threw my head back, closing my eyes against the ceiling, with wheezing breathing and sobbed, "He's dead, isn't he?"

I can't feel him. I can't feel him.

"He's sedated," Isabel rushed to say, but my mind wasn't letting her words in. It was blocking everything out. My assumed truth had become the real truth and I wanted to be alone in my grief. I wanted to be left alone.

I failed to hear how another person rushed into the room, but I felt his presence on my right side. I didn't flinch when he gently pressed his palm against my back, right between my shoulder blades. Because somehow he was getting through to me, making me instantly trust him.

My panic started to seep away, my breathing calmed down, my sobs grew quiet. In just a matter of seconds I was left feeling exhausted but at peace.

"He's sedated," Alex said behind me, but didn't remove his hand from my back. I was relieved that he didn't. The pressure of his hand anchored me, filled me with warmth and love. Calmed me.

I wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand as I turned towards him, feeling his hand lose its position and slide along my shoulder blade with the twisting of my upper body. I caught his hand in mine before it completely left my body, saw the grateful warmth in his eyes as I tightened my hand around his and brought them up to my chest, pressing the lock against my heart.

"Why?" I asked him.

"To cure his stupidity," Alex replied with a half-smile. He caught the somber frown on my face, stepped back from his need to joke in uncomfortable situations and explained seriously, "After being healed, he wouldn't let himself rest. He was trying to get to you. He turned..." Alex looked uncomfortable for a second as he swallowed, "...quite violent when we tried to stop him."

I felt my bottom lip tremble with anticipated tears. "Why did you stop him?"

Alex huffed and shook his head, looking at me tenderly, "Because he wouldn't stop at just getting to you. He planned on watching over you until you awoke."

A wobbly inhale escaped me and I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of my tears roll down my cheeks. I knew that he was right. I knew that that was what Max would do. _Especially_ in light of our very recent torturous separation.

"And his health wouldn't allow that," Alex filled in. "He was really bad off. Discounting almost being stabbed to death, I don't know how much he been sleeping when he was held captive."

Was it possible to feel sharp pain in the heart muscle itself? Because that's what it felt like. Or maybe I was having a heart attack or something.

I slowly opened my eyes and met Alex's green eyes. "Take me to him."

I kept my eyes on Alex's face while he flickered a look in Isabel's direction. I was aware of my father having grabbed my other hand and between the two men, I was trying to let their care and love sink into me. But something was holding it back. I still couldn't let go. I had built up walls around me, around my heart.

Alex looked back at me. "Okay."

"Should we unhook the IV?" my dad asked.

"It will be easier," Isabel replied. "I'll take the bag, if you two help Liz."

"I can take her," my dad said, more strength and confidence in his voice than I had heard in weeks. I looked towards him and realized that he had changed since I last saw him. He looked better. I had no idea what he had been told in my absence, of what might have happened to him, but someone had obviously gotten him to eat something.

Alex squeezed my hand, bringing my attention back to him, and gave me a soft smile, before he pulled his hand back.

It was as if warmth was sucked from my body. I gasped at the sensation, at the chills running across my body, at the hollow ripple through my chest.

Alex frowned, took a deep breath himself, and forced a smile on his face. I felt the shift in my own emotions along with his. Some warmth returned to me as he said, "I'll be right next to you."

I nodded quietly, my active mind trying to put two and two together. Why had Alex needed to _touch_ me to regulate my emotions this time? Was I too far away emotionally? Was I too damaged?

"Come here, sweetie," dad mumbled, directing my attention back to him. He absent-mindedly gave the disconnected IV line to Isabel before putting his arms around my body and cradling me to his chest while he got to his feet.

I hadn't been carried by my father since I had been a little girl. The sensation of being able to put my arms around his neck, feel his heart throb against the side of my ribcage and feel the warmth from his arms in the hook of my knees and around my back, was amazing.

Someone had changed my clothes and probably washed me up some. I quite distinctly remember having Max's blood on not just my clothes but also covering my hands and blotching my face. But there was no trace of Max on me any longer. I trembled at the thought and tightened my arms around my dad's neck.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, whispering, "It's not too far away," sensing my anxiety.

I was wearing my own, fresh-smelling, clean clothes. Dad must have gotten them for me. The familiar smell from the clothes, from the washing detergent my mom always bought, contributed to my thirst for feeling safe, to regain that feeling of security that I had always had before hell had been let loose over me.

Alex walked right next to us the whole time. He was holding onto one of my bare feet dangling in the air. Something I might have found funny if the situation had been different. Something I might have reacted to with actual laughter, considering that I was normally quite ticklish on my feet. But right now, it let him fuel me with what I needed. Warmth and positivity.

Even if it was fake, his abilities tricking my body to feel things it wasn't inclined to feel, it might be able to trick my body into believing in it. Just like you would actually _feel_ happy if you forced yourself to smile.

My dad hadn't just been trying to keep my mood up by saying that the location of the room where Max was wasn't too far away. It _was_ really close. Two doors down to be exact.

It looked similar to the room I had woken up in. But I didn't have eyes for the milieu, my gaze went immediately to the bed.

My whole body started shaking as I saw his familiar shape. The tips of my fingers dug into my father's shoulders and my eyes grew dry as I stared at him, trying to make out if he was breathing.

Dad rustled my fearful anticipation by taking a couple of steps further into the room and like a child I wiggled my legs, straining against his hold. "Put me down."

Dad did as ordered, but was there to catch me when my weak legs folded as soon as they were left on their own to support the weight of my body. But my eyes never left Max. Not when I pushed my dad's helping hands away or when I walked on very unsteady legs up to the bed.

Alex was already pulling up a chair to the bed for me to sit on by the time I had gingerly reached Max's bed.

"You should sit down, Liz," Alex offered quietly, but I didn't take his advice.

Instead I leaned over Max, silently tracing his profile and feeling his even breaths move my upper body as it brushed against his side. He was on his side, facing the window, his features relaxed in assisted sleep.

My finger was shaking as I placed it on his forehead and lightly caressed the outer line of his face from the top of his dark hair to his (hairy) chin.

"You're alive," I whispered.

My own statement made it real. He was actually there. His father had saved him.

My forehead dropped to his cheek, my silent tears dripping on his skin, sliding down his neck, as I breathed him in. I bit into my bottom lip to try and control the onslaught of emotions as Max encased my senses. It really was him.

"Liz?" Alex asked hesitantly behind me. "Don't you want to sit down? You're still weak. You shouldn't tire yourself out."

I took another breath, feeling Max's pulse throb rhythmically against the tip of my nose and closed my eyes. "I'm okay, Alex."

But a mere second later, Max's presence and the relief of knowing that he was alive, was weakening my body and I felt myself leaning even heavier against Max. Something I didn't want. What if he couldn't breathe properly with me leaning on him?

"Actually," I mumbled, opening my eyes and attempting to straighten. I put my hand out in Alex's direction and added, "Could you help me around the bed?"

His fingers grazed mine, before he comfortably wrapped his fingers around my hand. "Of course."

He stepped up close to my side, letting me shift my weight from Max to him and with one hand in mine and the other one around my waist, he navigated us around the bed so that I came face to face with Max.

"I'm getting into the bed," I told Alex soberly.

There was surprised hesitancy in his one-worded, "Oh," but he was already answering my hidden request while he added, "Okay," and helped me climb into the bed.

It was not a large bed. A single, actually. But Max and I didn't need space. We needed proximity.

While Alex sorted out the blankets, I carefully placed my head on Max's arm, the one his own head was resting on, and scooted up close. I intertwined our legs, my body sighing in content at the familiar warmth of his body.

Right as I was relaxing in his presence, he moved his free arm and placed it across my waist. My breath got stuck in my throat and I looked up at his face, anticipating him to be awake.

But he looked just the same. Eyes closed. Lips slightly parted to let his slow breaths in and out.

"Is he awake?" Alex questioned. "I thought he was sedated."

"He's supposed to be," Isabel answered. "I think he is."

"Well, he just moved," Alex deadpanned.

"That's not supposed to... He did?"

"He put his arm around Liz."

"Wait... Let me check."

I was still looking at Max, expecting him to reveal those enigmatic eyes to me, when Isabel shuffled around my head, prying the eyelid to one of his eyes open - finding no response - before lightly slapping his cheek twice.

"Hey," I frowned in protest. But I didn't move to physically stop her. I didn't want to move my hand that was curled up against Max's chest.

"Sorry 'bout that," Isabel said lightly. "Just checking."

Turning away from me, she told Alex, "He's asleep."

There was a beat of silence, before Alex stated, "That's just odd."

"You should see what they can do to electricity, then you can talk about odd."

"Yeah, I heard something about that."

Their conversation paused for a minute, in which I fought to control my feelings. I felt like I wanted to break down. Cry for...just about everything. But if Max was somehow aware that I was here, in that he had managed to move in a sedated state, I didn't want to pour all my 'negative' emotions over him right now. He needed my strength and support. Not the complete opposite.

"I think you better hook her up to her IV, Iz," Alex said. "I have a feeling that she's not going back to her room."

"You don't say," Isabel murmured, amusement in her voice. I heard her approach and maybe she thought that I was already asleep, because she forewarned me about her presence.

Or maybe they were all seeing me as a nutcase right about now.

"I'm just gonna connect the IV-line, Liz."

"Okay," I acknowledged, and let her take my hand. I had IV-ports on the back of both my hands. I briefly wondered how much - and what - fluids they had given me. "Where's your father?"

"Resting," Isabel answered. "Healing Max and then supplying you with some energy, really took it out of him."

"I'm sorry," I whispered and looked up at Isabel leaning over me, gently attaching the IV to the port.

She gave me a soft smile. "Not your fault."

"How long has it been? Since Max..." I couldn't even say it.

 _almost died_

Isabel placed my hand back between Max and my bodies. "Three days."

I swallowed. "I've been out for that long?"

"We sedated you as well. To let your body rest." She looked hesitant for a second before adding, "Maybe you don't remember this, but you passed out when my dad arrived at the institute-"

 _The Institute? Is that where we had been?_

"-and when you came to, you screamed for Max for a couple of minutes before Alex managed to calm you down. But whenever you fell asleep during those first 24 hours, you would be waking up screaming."

"Nightmares," I whispered, faint memories of those hours brushing my awareness.

"Yeah," Isabel agreed and she looked very uncomfortable. Had it been that bad?

"We made the decision to sedate you too, just like Max, to let your body - and mind - recuperate."

"When will Max be waking up?" I asked, looking back at Max's sleeping face.

"Dad says he needs another 14 hours, minimum."

I nodded and threaded my fingers slowly through his bangs before brushing at the short beard he had gotten. I was very much not used to that 'look' on him. It made him look very different. Too tired to lift my head to check, I asked, "Is my dad still here?"

"I'm here," my dad responded, his voice sounding a bit distant.

"Can you stay?" I asked and heard him walk closer until he came into my field of vision as he took a seat in the chair on Max's other side.

"Consider me glued to this chair," he promised.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"We'll talk more later," Isabel said and took a step back from the bed. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but try and not think about anything right now. You're safe here."

That last statement alone roused several questions in my head. Like: was there a rebellion? And in that case, had they won? Was it over? Where was Command? What had happened to the council? Was Max and I still 'needed' or were we free to be together?

Alex's bemused voice interrupted my worried train of thought. "She said 'No thinking'." He reached out and squeezed my shoulder, sending me a wave of warmth and calmness. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"Thank you," I whispered, a bit confused about all this care and love all of the sudden after so many days in complete ruthless coldness.

"Try not to do any magic tricks if Max happens to wake up early, okay?" Isabel asked and I caught her wink as she walked around the foot of the bed towards the door.

"I'll leave the lamps alone, I promise," I said and saw Alex smile at me brightly.

He probably thought I was getting better, because I was making jokes.

Obviously, I wished that he was right. Unfortunately, I feared that he wasn't.


	70. SEVENTY

_Child of Music and Dreams - Thanks :)_

* * *

 **SEVENTY**

"Do you want to play a game?" he asked with a smile, angling his head inquisitively to the side.

A heavy metal bracelet was digging into my wrist, rubbing against wounds that were already chafed into my skin. The chain that was attached to that two inch thick 'bracelet' made clinking sounds of iron against iron as I scooted further back up against the cold wall.

The bricked wall was rough against my bare back, scratching against my chilled skin, but my attention was on the silver gun Sean was holding in his hands. Wiggling it back and forth like a toy gun. He kept spinning the cylinder, where I knew that the bullets were housed, while his taunting and challenging eyes were locked on my face to gloat in my fear.

"No," I whispered, pulling my exposed legs to my chin, making myself as small and compact as possible.

It was cold and I felt vulnerable, positioned in my underwear in front of _him._

"Come on." He rolled his eyes at my answer. "Don't be a partypooper." He flipped open the cylinder and shook the gun. The bullets made small innocent sounds when they hit the floor in a sporadic pattern.

To think that just one of those small things had the power to end someone's life.

Sean reached out and took one of the bullets that had rolled next to my foot. Grinning at me, he slowly caressed the top of my naked foot before he grabbed the bullet and put it in one of the chambers, making a show out of spinning the cylinder several times before clicking it back in position.

"You might have heard of it," he mused, shuffling closer so that his crosslegged knee pressed against my shin. "Apparently, someone in the Russian army came up with it." He looked down at the gun and laughed softly, "The Russians sure know how to have fun." He cocked the weapon and pointed it at my head. "Ladies first?"

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest as I looked down the barrel of the gun. My hands were so sweaty that they were losing their grip on my knees, my legs sliding forward and colliding with Sean's before I pulled them back up again.

"Please, Sean, don't..." I pleaded and jumped in blinding fear as he pulled the trigger. There was no bang. There was no pain.

Only the click of the cylinder moving to the next chamber.

Sean laughed at my reaction. Laughed so hard that tears seeped out of the corners of his eyes. He laughed while I was on the verge of throwing up.

Tears were seeping out of my eyes too. But not because of cold-hearted amusement.

"You should have seen your face," Sean sniveled breathlessly with a big smile as he wiped his eyes. He was still in the process of wiping his tears at my fear when he quickly put the gun to his forehead, cocked it, and pulled the trigger.

I squeezed my eyes closed and jumped at the anticipated loud sound of a gun going off. But it didn't come this time either.

"Isn't this fun?" Sean breathed, true joy in his voice, and I opened my eyes to look straight into the darkness of the barrel once again. "Maybe if you're the lucky winner I can just call for Dr. Evans and have him heal you. And we can do this all over again."

I pushed my head towards my knees, huddling together, as my tears ran down my legs. I was so afraid I was numb.

"I can think of much funnier games," a voice said to my left and I froze.

Lifting my head to the gun in front of me, I noticed that Sean had become immobilized as well. The gun in his hand lowered slightly as he turned to look at the owner of that voice. I mimicked the turn of his head, the blood rushing through my head because I already knew who would be standing there.

He was still wearing his black jeans and his black T-shirt. He looked thin but strong, his eyes commanding as they stared at Sean calmly. He wasn't looking at me.

I felt like my eyes were about to pop out of my head. What was he doing here?

Max hitched his head towards Sean's hand and asked, eyebrows raised withcuriosity, "What game is that, really? The flower game?"

I looked back at the gun - well, what used to be a gun. Instead Sean was now holding a soft flower in his hand, its pink petals as harmless as its smooth green stem.

"What the hell...?" Sean mumbled and dropped the flower.

"Wait..." Max continued, making me look back at him, my mouth falling open in astonished bewilderment. Max gestured towards Sean yet again and added, "Is this some kind of fucked up version of strip poker?"

Being very aware of my own dressed-down clothing situation, I blushed as I turned to look at Sean.

Who was now...naked.

Sean gave a high-pitched yelp and pulled his legs up to his chest - reflecting my position - as he tried to shield his nudity.

A surprised short laugh tumbled over my lips, before I whipped my head back to Max. Who was now walking towards us. Stopping right next to us, I had to strain my neck to look up at him as he looked down at Sean.

His voice was cold and hard. "Do me a favor, Carter? Get out of here. You're disgusting."

Sean looked completely out of place, flicking his gaze between Max and me a couple of times, before he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room, his hands pressed over his manhood.

I swallowed slowly and looked up at Max again, catching him shaking his head with a 'tsk tsk' at Sean's behavior before giving me the warmest smile. "That skinny ass need some sun."

But the joke flew straight over my head as I whispered for confirmation, "Max?" Was he really here? Was it really him?

He crouched down in front of me, his eyes as warm and gentle as his smile. He leaned in and slowly brushed his thumb across my cheekbone, catching one of my escaping tears. "It's time to go."

I shook my head slowly at the impossibility, saying quietly, "I can't. I'm attached to the wall. My hand..." My voice trailed off as I looked down at my previously bonded wrist and noticed that it was free. "I..."

"You're free," Max whispered, took a hold of my previously injured wrist and placed a kiss on the inside, over my pulse. "It's time to wake up."

I looked up into his eyes and felt myself falling.

With a gasp, I was awake.

And Max's eyes were still looking into mine.

"Hey," he whispered over my gasp.

I was back in bed. With Max. Hooked up to an IV-drip in a sparsely decorated room. The sunlight was gone, instead the room was dimly lit up with one small lamp on the bedside table and one floor lamp over by the door.

Not really knowing what to say, I echoed his greeting, "Hey."

His eyes were slowly searching my face, the connection calm and expectant between us even when there was controlled worry on his face. "Did that happen? Did Sean do that to you?"

The dream. The nightmare.

I saw movement behind Max's shoulder, caught my father's soft smile as he rose from his seat and quietly left the room. Giving us privacy.

I returned my attention to Max.

"No," I whispered, my voice breaking. "No. That never happened."

That was just something my traumatized mind had made up.

I frowned. "Were you in my dream?"

"You were in pain," he said slowly, gauging my reaction. "I couldn't just lay here and watch you being in pain."

"It would have been easier to wake me up..." I suggested, a bit confused. Why wouldn't he just end my nightmare as quickly as possible?

He shook his head slightly, sending movement through the pillow we were sharing. "That wouldn't help you. Only temporarily."

I pulled on the connection for an explanation to his vague replies and realized that he was trying to heal me. He was trying to turn horrible memories into good ones. Starting with my nightmares.

"You..." I breathed, my heart doing that funny thing again. Aching. As if it was splitting apart.

His arm, still resting in the curve of my waist, tightened and pulled me closer. Looking deeply into my eyes as if he was searching through my whole being (and with the connection as an assisting tool, I guess, in a way, he was), he asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

I shook my head and thought about telling him 'no', but realized that that one voiced confession would break me and instead redirected the conversation, "How long have you been awake?"

He didn't answer at first, his eyes caressing every detail of my face in contemplation, before he decided to move on from my avoidance of the subject and answered lightly, "About two minutes."

He had basically immediately entered my dream then.

I worried my lip in deep thought as I brushed my hand up his T-shirt covered chest, over the area across his heart where he had been bleeding. Where Sean had jabbed a knife into him. "You almost died."

"Yeah," he whispered, giving me a soft smile to take off some of the seriousness of that statement, "I was walking into the light and everything."

Even if he was trying to make me smile, my face was serious as I nodded in quiet reflection, my fingers still tracing the indents of his muscles, palpable through the shirt. "I can't believe I'm here." I looked up at him, into his familiar eyes. "I can't believe I'm here with you."

Insecurity moved through the connection a second before Max asked, "Do I scare you?"

I frowned. "Scare me?"

"Sean was me. He was me in that memory you showed me. When you burned him."

It was a legitimate question, considering how badly I had reacted to Max after just having _dreamt_ of Sean portraying Max. And in my dream he was only trying to make me go with him.

Now it had actually happened. Sean _had_ turned into Max and his actions had been far worse than some coercing. He had tried to rape me. He _had_ assaulted me. Threatened me.

But oddly enough, I wasn't scared of Max. The _real_ Max. I had only been frightened as long as I hadn't been sure it had been him. When they had brought me into that room with him. The room in which they stabbed him.

I shivered at the direction my mind took, before I was back to contemplating Max's question.

He already knew my answer before I spoke it out loud. He had been listening in, his briefly tensing body relaxing at my speculations. But I said it anyway. "Without the connection, I probably would have been afraid of you. I would only have your physical appearance to go on. The inconsistencies in your personality could be overlooked in that situation as you being stressed and wanting to get out of there."

"He pretended that he was coming to rescue you..." Max filled in.

I nodded. "Yes. Which was all very plausible at first. Until he wanted to heal me first. And he needed to have eye contact to do so."

"Right," Max said with a grimace. The tips of his fingers unconsciously dug into my side.

"Which didn't seem like something _you_ would have to do, considering our connection. It wasn't how I thought you would react in that situation. You would try and get us out of there as soon as possible. As long as I wasn't dying. Which I wasn't."

He looked at me silently, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"He didn't smell right," I said.

Max's eyes twitched with confused amusement. "I smell?"

"Yeah," I replied, wanting to smile, but failing. "I love your smell." I inhaled deeply and continued, "But I brushed it aside at first, thinking that captivity had changed your scent. But then... His touches weren't right. The expressions on his face, in his eyes, weren't right. He might have _looked_ like you, but he wasn't anywhere close to actually _being_ you."

"He shouldn't have passed up on that drama class in school," Max mused and I wanted to roll my eyes at him. Wanted to get back into the norms that my body was used to. The normal responses to situations and things being said.

Instead, I whispered, "Probably," and buried my face against his chest, pressing my nose into his shirt. He slightly moved us so that he could put both of his arms around me, pulling me halfway up across his body, my leg falling in between his and my arms cradling the sides of his upper body. I felt the slight tug on the IV attached to my hand at the movement.

"But if I _do_ flinch or get spooked just before I realize that it's you... When I wake up or you take me off guard or something..." I whispered with my cheek pressed against his heart. "I can't control that-"

"I know," Max interrupted fiercely, as if I had just called him an idiot, but I hushed him.

"No, let me say this." I took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I could never be afraid of _you_ , but it might take me awhile to be okay with the memory of _him_ being you."

"You're telling me to not take it personally?" Max guessed, his voice trembling some in his attempt to keep it light.

We were touching upon his deepest fears again. Fears of being rejected. Fears of being feared - especially because of his origin. Especially because he loathed who he was. Where he came from. Even more now, considering what had happened. Considering what his race had just put me - us - through.

"Exactly," I replied, dropped my head and snuggled closer to him.

"I'll try," he whispered, brushing his hand through my hair.

In those thirteen seconds before Mr. Evans entered the room, things were as good as they could be (considering the situation). I was too occupied with the relief of being in Max's arms again, the relief of him being alive, that I didn't have any time to dwell on what I had been through.

All of that would soon come crashing down around me.

"Oh good, you're awake," Mr. Evans announced as a means of greeting as he stepped into the room.

I startled at the sudden voice, Max reflectively tightened his hold on me, and as the two traumatized teenagers that we were, our hearts flew off in adrenaline-spiked gallop rhythms before we realized that it was someone that could be trusted.

Mr. Evans had probably noticed our common flinch, because his voice was regretfully much softer and gentler as he added, "Let's get you up to speed."


	71. SEVENTY-ONE

_A/N: Because the previous chapter was a bit short; two updates today :-) So if you've ended up here without reading chapter SEVENTY, go back ;-)_

 ** _Thank you so much for reading!_**

* * *

 **SEVENTY-ONE**

I was tracing the thumb of his knuckle with my index finger. Sliding it around the top of his nail, wondering if they were short because he had chewed on them or if they had cut his nails while he was unconscious. There was dirt underneath them. No. Not dirt. Blood. Most likely his own. He had his own dried blood underneath his fingernails.

I twisted our interlocked hands, turning the back of his hand more towards me so that my free hand could continue to trace and explore his skin. To move over the bumps of his blue veins, to lightly brush over the plastic object taped to his skin, avoiding the plastic line that supplied his blood with fluid. And nutrition. Apparently, Max's father had been feeding us intravenously while we had been unconscious.

Apparently we both looked horrible. Haggard and gaunt. Malnourished and weak.

Max gave my hand a squeeze and I could feel his eyes on the top of my head. But I had blocked him out of the connection. Apparently, I was able to do this now. Without much effort. Max hadn't asked me about it yet, even though I was very certain that he had noticed. That he was hurting from it. Which wasn't my intention. I just needed to be alone. Alone with my thoughts.

Alex was seated on my other side, moving his eyes between Mr. Evans, the untouched soup in front of me and my face.

I guess my silence worried them.

Max's worry would be bulldozing me at the moment, if I hadn't been blocking him. I could tell, just from the way he sat really really close, from the tremors in his body, from the way his free hand was clenching and relaxing while resting on top of his thigh, and from the heat of his gaze.

He was paying about as much attention to this version of a debriefing we had ended up in as I was.

Mr. Evans was talking about Command. About a man named Dresden. About Mr. Guerin and Mr. Whitman. About the rupture of a society that had been in place since their arrival on Earth in 1947. About a community scattered and disorganized. About the change that had made this happen. Max and I. Our unusual bond. And me killing Sean and Steven.

About the rebellion that Max and I hadn't been too far off about in our speculations.

But I had stopped listening sometime after Mr. Evans had told me that they needed our help. They needed the strength of our bond. We needed to refine it, tap into its strength, and overthrow Command.

With that, the block in my mind had come naturally. Slammed down like black iron walls around my mind, cutting Max out. I hadn't been immune to his flinch as it had happened, or the way his hand had tightened around mine, or the fact that he was searching around my mind, gently tapping to get in. He didn't do it for long though, knowing what associations him trying to break into my mind might give me.

So he had, albeit unwillingly, allowed me to cut him out.

It was not really like it was an active choice. It must have been what my mind had needed. It was trying to protect itself. Because the block I had put up wasn't similar to the one Max used on me. His was usually one-way, preventing me from feeling him. While he could still read me perfectly fine. But my version was more like the one I had managed to do when Sean had assaulted me in the gym. Cutting off the bond at both ends.

But I knew that it was still there. I knew that I hadn't destroyed anything. I had learnt (the hard way) that not much could destroy this bond.

My thoughts moved uninhibited to Sean. To his blue eyes and his cold smile. To the feel of his hands around my throat as he had squeezed and squeezed-

I cleared my throat, effectively cutting off whatever Mr. Evans had been in the middle of saying, and got to my feet. "Excuse me."

Max tugged on my hand as I tried to release it. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't look into his eyes and see the worry that I could already hear in his voice. I knew that his eyes would affect me a great deal more than the tone of his voice. He was fairly good at controlling his voice. Not that good at controlling his eyes.

So my eyes were downcast as I mumbled, "I just need to go to the toilet."

"Okay," Mr. Evans said slowly. "We'll take a break then."

"No," I said quickly and looked at Max's father. He was looking at me very strangely and I briefly wondered what he was seeing.

Was I failing miserably at keeping my demons hidden?

"Don't mind me; Max will fill me in later," I whispered. It was not like I had heard much of it up until now anyway.

Max squeezed my hand before letting it go. "You need help?"

"I'll show you where it is," Alex offered and took my hand without preamble.

I bit back on the instinct to pull my hand away and fluttered a brief smile in his direction. I didn't actually know where the toilet was. "Sure. Thanks."

I let him lead me out of the room and out the hallway, Max's eyes heating down my back at my exit.

I was incredibly aware of Alex's gaze on my profile as he helped me down the corridor. "How are you holding up?"

A wave of annoyance ran through me. "You tell me."

His eyes left my face and his confession was quiet. "Actually, I can't read you."

 _That's because I've blocked myself off._

"How could you before?" I asked, stopping when he did, in front of a door.

He pushed the door open and reached around the doorframe to switch on the lights. The white bathroom reflected the white light, making it sting my eyes.

"I mean, neither Sean nor the Sergeant could break into my mind. At least not my emotional part. Not even Command could do that. So how could you? How could you help me earlier?" My voice had gone from bitter to soft, as my gratitude for how he had helped me earlier shone through and overrode my dark feelings.

He leaned against the doorframe and didn't acknowledge when I pulled my hand out of his. He kept his eyes locked with mine and said solemnly, almost sounding a bit sad. "I don't go through your mind. I go through your heart."

I frowned. Whatever did that mean? As far as biology had taught me, feelings were produced in the brain. It was only humans' romantic notions that insisted on describing how your heart was broken when a relationship ended or how you could be afflicted by a heavy heart.

Seeing the confusion on my face, Alex aimed to illustrate, "I can't really explain it. Feelings originate in the brain, but they resonate through your whole body. You can hold sorrow in your chest, your back gets tight from fear, you can even have phantom feelings in limbs that don't even exist anymore." He shrugged. "Yes, it all goes back and forth to the brain for processing, but your whole body sends out emotions. In waves."

"Like colors," I whispered, thinking of Max. Thinking of myself and what the connection had started to make me see.

Alex looked surprised. "Yeah. Exactly like that. And my ability translates them, makes me feel them. Makes me able to affect them. But I never go into your mind. Affecting your feelings on a 'bodily' level will still feed back into your mind, like a positive feedback loop. But your mind still has the option of 'putting its foot down' and shutting it off. If you, say, don't believe in that emotion."

It made me feel more positive about Alex's powers. To know that his powers essentially weren't messing with anyone's mind was a relief. It also explained why he had been so against telling me about himself, in the off-chance that I might react badly and he would have to attempt erasing my mind. He probably didn't have much experience with 'messing' with someone's mind.

I was so deep in thought, that I forgot to speak, so Alex continued, hesitantly, "But I can't feel you now. There's no..." he slowly licked his lips giving him time, maybe to choose his words carefully, "...colors around you."

"Yeah," I said sadly, without elaborating.

That felt about accurate. I had no colors anymore.

"Did something happen? Between you and Max? I could reach you this morning."

I sighed and shook my head to repudiate his questions. "It's just a bit too overwhelming. I just needed a break."

I realized that my answer probably gave him more questions than answers. For once, let the _aliens_ wonder what the human did. What her powers are.

I took a step into the bathroom and produced a weak smile. "Thank you, Alex."

"I'll wait outside," he replied.

"You don't have-" I started, but he shook his head firmly.

"I'll wait outside."

I could see that he was being serious and that I probably wouldn't be able to persuade him to do otherwise. Not that I wanted to put any energy into that. There were tougher battles to save my energy for.

Instead, I nodded and closed the door.

My hands were shaking as I walked up to the toilet. The whiteness of the bathroom reminded me of another bathroom. Where I had tried to hide. Where I had been pushed up against a wall.

It was even similar to the bathroom in which I had seen my mother's blood stain the floor.

It was a struggle to pull my pants and panties down, my nerves were weakening my hands. I hid my face in my hands as I forced my body to relax enough on the toilet seat that I could actually empty my bladder.

Flushing, I stepped in front of the sink - and the mirror - and stilled. I met the dark eyes of a young woman. With protruding cheekbones and a darkness under the eyes that were making even her eyes seem to stick out. The hair was a matted mess, having gone past the oily phase and entered the tangled phase. If I leaned in closer, I could see brown-reddish flakes in parts of the hair.

Max had blood under his fingernails, I had blood in my hair.

I looked at the cracks in my lips, ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling the absence of a toothbrush, and saw the sharpness of my collarbones and the front of my shoulders jut out above the hem of the shirt.

I thought I would be all cried out by now, but still, tears were rolling down my cheeks. I cried for the girl that had died in that room. For her innocence. For her happiness.

I cried because I had been stupid. Standing in front of the mirror now, I quite clearly remembered standing in front of the mirror just three weeks earlier, before going on a date with Max. Before I had lost my virginity. I remember how I had been ashamed of my body then. How I had picked myself apart in light of my scrutiny and analyzed the different parts through the eyes of society.

Looking at me now, I wished that I could go back and talk some sense into that girl. Because she had been unaware of how beautiful she had been. She had been unaware even when she had later seen herself through his eyes. Even when he had seen her as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had never let herself believe. Not really.

But I wondered what he saw now. I wondered if Max was as saddened and disgusted by my appearance as I was. I wondered if he missed that beautiful girl I had actually been not too long ago. If he regretted ever bonding with me considering how I had turned out.

Obviously, I had not succeeded in remaining that strong girl he had seen during the course of my upbringing. The one he had admired and respected. When push came to shove, I had crumbled.

The sobs I was holding back - the hollow deep sobs - pulled on the inside of my chest, and the feeling was painful. I was glad then that my mind had decided to utilize what it was learning from the connection and block Max. I was glad that he couldn't feel the wreck I had become.

I was ashamed of myself.

Was this how he felt? Max? Was this how it felt to loathe yourself?

I felt unclean. On so many levels. For so many different reasons.

I could still feel Sean's hands on me. Even the Sergeant's, as he dug his fingers into my thighs, and his closeness when he showed me exactly how he had raped my mother.

The panic was building, tightening my chest, and I frantically started to look around me. There was a shower stall in the corner of the bathroom and my eyes stopped there, looking at it longingly.

It didn't matter that the others at the 'meeting' might be waiting for me. I needed to take a shower.

So with a desperate semi-suppressed sob, I started pulling on doors to cabinets to find products. Anything that would make me clean. In the midst of my agony, I was almost ridiculously happy to find not only shampoo and conditioner, but also shaving cream and a razor.

I was inside the shower stall in seconds, turning the dials to hot and going back to my old habit of scolding myself. To feel. And this time, to become clean. Even if it meant that some layers of skin had to come off.

It felt glorious. The water - although too hot for my skin - soothed my body, flowed gently around the sharp corners of my bones and washed away several days of dirt. I lathered and washed my hair and then repeated. Seven times. I couldn't get clean enough. My arms were aching from the scrubbing, from repeatedly running my hands through my hair to get it clean. But I didn't notice.

Feeling better about my hair, I sank to the floor of the stall, my legs not holding me up any longer. I sat down and stretched both legs out in front of me, applying a generous amount of shaving gel and then commenced shaving my legs.

The task calmed my mind, made me focus on something. As if hypnotized, I angled my head to the side to be able to follow the movements of the razor as I moved it over the bumps and straight lines of my legs.

Until I cut myself. The blood - the very red and clear blood - made my breath hitch and I had to close my eyes at the sight. But closing my eyes made it worse. Behind closed eyelids were images of Max's chest - covered in blood. So I opened them again, took a deep breath, and switched to my other leg, ignoring the blood that was swirling into the drain. It eventually stopped and I could finish shaving the first leg. I finished off by shaving my armpits before I grabbed the shower gel and started rinsing through my whole body. I had found a bath sponge in one of the cabinets and I took full use of it.

My newly shaved skin didn't appreciate the combination of extremely hot water and the frantic rub of a sponge, breaking the external pinkish layer of my skin up into small bleeding wounds. But it didn't stop me. I needed to get clean.

I heard him calling me through the door a couple of times, but I didn't respond. I needed to get this done.

I guess that's why he finally entered the room and was suddenly standing outside the shower stall.

I screamed as the shadow fell over me, my heart in my throat. If the connection had been open, I would have known it was him, felt him approach, but there was no warning (except him calling my name repeatedly through the door, of course) that he would suddenly be standing there.

I inhaled sharply as he opened the door and I breathed, "Don't do that."

"I called for you," Max said slowly, his eyes trailing over my hunched up body. I curled in on myself even tighter, not wanting him to look at me.

"I'll be right out," I whispered. "Please leave."

There was obvious pain in his eyes and he barely got the words out. "What have you done? You've hurt yourself."

I dropped my eyes, staring at my pulled up knees. "I need to get clean."

He didn't say anything, but the unspoken words were burning through his gaze. The one that was still looking me over.

"I'll be right out," I repeated through tight lips. Would he stop staring at me?

I heard the rustling of clothes and looked up at him, seeing that he was pulling his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" I asked fearfully.

"I'm joining you," Max answered plainly.

No. No. He would touch me. He would see me.

He pushed his sweatpants down his legs. "I really need a shower too."

"Just give me a minute and it's all yours," I tried.

"No," he answered, giving me a look that I couldn't quite decipher. Admonishment? Anger? Concern?

"Please, Max," I whispered, pleading with him. Didn't he get that he was making it worse?

I bit my lip as he pulled his boxers down and I could fully see the changes to his body. How thin he had become. The faint discoloration in different places on his body (why hadn't his father healed them? Maybe he didn't have had the energy to?) and the bones that were protruding in familiar places, like those on my own body.

He didn't let me look at him for long before he stepped into the shower, carefully stepping around my seated curled-up body. It was not a big shower stall.

"Do you have any shampoo?" he asked naturally. As if he wasn't standing over me all naked, reaching his hand down towards me.

I tried to find somewhere to place my gaze where he wasn't and nodded. "But it's for girls, I think. Coconut." Stating a detail that didn't really matter.

"Coconut is fine," he told me softly and accepted the bottle.

Even though I tried to look away, my eyes kept drifting towards him. Watching the muscles move underneath his skin with each scrub through his hair. Watching the V-shape of his back, the hairiness of the back of his thighs as he turned into the stream of the water, leaning against the wall with one hand pressed against it and his eyes closed.

He didn't wash his hair several times. Only twice. And I was a bit disappointed that he didn't. Not because I felt that he wasn't clean enough, but because it was nice to watch him do it. It was so normal, so routine. I thought about how many times he had done this in his lifetime. How he probably would have done it the exact same way every time after finding a routine that worked for him. This was a part of Max that I didn't get to see. The things he did several times a week - out of necessity.

"Shower gel?" he asked and I blushed when I noticed that he was looking at me, most likely having caught me staring at him.

"Yeah," I said and held the bottle up for him.

"Thanks," he mumbled and began to lather up his body.

A warmth was spreading out through my whole body watching him. It was not because of the temperature of the water - which Max had lowered when he stepped in by they way - nor was it necessarily a sexual thing. It was the warmth of normalcy, of belonging, of being trusted with seeing him like this. Because he had been hurt just like me. Vulnerable and exposed. Robbed of his dignity.

I briefly wondered if he was doing this for me, making a point out of showering with me, or if it had just been a matter of convenience.

"Do you have a razor?"

Yep. He had caught me staring again. This time he was smiling at me and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch in a smile that wanted to get out, but couldn't quite.

I nodded and fumbled for the razor which had traveled in the the stream of water and ended up somewhere under my pulled-up legs.

"Scoot over," his voice said over my head when I was feeling for the razor.

I looked up at him in surprise and found him taking a seat next to me on the floor of the stall, pushing the side of his lower body up against mine (there really wasn't a lot of space in there - especially not for two _seated_ people) to gently move me to make room for him.

"Max..." I started to protest, not sure what I wanted to say or what I was objecting to.

"I need your help," he said, looking me straight in the eyes.

"Wh-what?" I stuttered, the expression in his eyes doing things to me. Adult things.

"Did you find it?" he asked, not looking away.

My eyes moved to his lips and I unconsciously licked my own as the water from the shower rained over us. I looked up into his eyes, watching water collect into big droplets on his eyelashes before they got too big and lost their grip.

"The razor," he clarified, pulling me back to reality.

"Yeah," I breathed, even though I hadn't found it yet, and quickly searched underneath me.

Finding it, I accidentally slid my finger along the sharp end, making a deep cut in the tip of my index finger.

"Ow." I snapped my hand away from the sharp object and put the finger in my mouth.

"Let me see," Max said quietly, already reaching for my hand.

I let him curl his fingers around the palm of my hand and gently pull my hand away from my mouth, my finger away from my lips. I watched him closely as he looked at my finger and suddenly it hit me how alone I felt without the connection. How much I, right now, had to rely on his actions and my own senses to get an idea of what he was feeling and thinking.

Because even though I could _see_ the warmth with which he was touching my hand, I couldn't _feel_ it.

He closed his hand over my finger, the small sting disappearing, his incredible warmth filled my finger and brushed against the top of my palm, before it was gone.

"Thank you," I mumbled, embarrassed about having hurt myself.

Before I had the chance to react, he had released my hand and was searching with his hand across the floor underneath my legs. "Let me get it."

My breath froze in anticipation as his arm repeatedly brushed against the back of my thighs with his search and my body was trembling when he pulled his hand back and triumphantly held the razor up in front of me.

"Now. Can you help me?"

"To shave?" I guessed hesitantly.

He nodded.

"You really trust me with that?" I grimaced. "I just cut myself on it just picking it up, and I also have a cut on my leg from-"

"Where?" he interrupted, already looking at me legs and running the hand that wasn't holding the razor up my shins, around the back to my calves.

I inhaled sharply. He had to stop doing that!

I grabbed a hold of his wrist, stopping his ministrations, and ignored the tingly feeling his self-conscious boyish grin created in me when he realized what he had done.

"Sorry."

"It'll heal, Max. It's one of the amazing functions of the human body."

"Yes," he whispered, making that one word loaded with double and triple meanings, before he held the razor up to me again. "I trust you with my life."

I hesitated for a second before giving in. My hand was shaking badly as I grabbed the razor from him, instantly making me regret that I had accepted. I was going to hurt him. I couldn't shave his face, shave down his neck, when shaking like this.

Max folded his hand over my shaking one and whispered, "Relax."

"I've never given anyone a shave before," I said as an excuse and he gave me a half grin before reaching for the shaving gel and lathering up his cheeks.

"There's always a first, Lizzie."

Not that I kept track, but that was the second time Max had called me by that nickname. The first time had been when he had been trying to get my attention to be able to form the connection with me. When I had wanted him to go back into a burning house and save my mom instead of saving me.

Maria was the one that usually called me 'Lizzie', but Sean had also used that nickname. Too many times. Coming out of his mouth, it had been taunting and cold. A way to make fun of me and make me feel like a little girl.

When Max said it, it was different. It rolled over his tongue like a caress. Like a sensual stroke of every syllable.

It made my heart beat an extra beat.

Because it made me think of all the firsts Max and I had already shared.

My cheeks felt incredibly hot when I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders as a show of confidence, and shifted my weight forward onto my knees.

He was watching me as I stared at his skin, trying to angle the razor correctly to not injure him. The first drag along his skin went without incident. So did the second. And the third.

Max angled his face to help me reach, not even looking nervous when he looked upwards, exposing his neck to me. My heart was thrumming hard in my chest the whole time, I was so afraid I would cut him.

Towards the end, my weak body started to notice the strain I was putting it through and I pressed my hand against his shoulder as my upper body wavered.

Without moving his head out of the 'shaving position', Max gently grabbed my waist with one of his hands, steadying me. The touch affected me deeply. On an emotional level. Fortunately, I could hide the tears that had formed in the stream of the water as I drew strength from his support and finished shaving him.

Without a single nick to his skin.

As I pulled back, he lowered his chin, bringing his eyes level with mine again. He caught the hand that was still gripping the razor painfully tight, made me release the shaving tool, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

I dropped my eyes, not wanting to feel. I didn't feel ready to let him in. To let him see who I had become. But he was making it really hard to resist. All I wanted to do was to blend with his warmth, his essence, his soul, and let him heal me. Mentally.

Still holding onto my hand, he uncurled my fingers and slowly placed a kiss to every five of my fingertips.

"You're skin is all wrinkly," he announced. "It's time to get out of the water."

I could already see that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. So I let him help me to my feet and I remained standing next to him as he turned off the water. His hand holding tightly onto mine prevented me from stepping out of the stall without him.

Once we had exited - together - he found some big fluffy white towels under the sink and, quickly tying one over his hips, he unfolded the other one and held it up like a flag in front of me.

I was standing with my arms tightly wrapped across my chest, my skin glowing red from the temperature of the water and from the scrubbing, my legs bleeding and my body shivering from the air. I gratefully walked towards the towel and let Max wrap it around me, putting his arms around me and the towel once I was rolled up like a sausage.

My arms were captured in front of my chest, making the hug awkward, but Max didn't seem to mind. His body was warm as he circled his arms around me and put his nose very close in the crook of my neck.

The silence was loaded. Max's questions - the ones he probably wanted to ask, but didn't - were electrifying the space around us. Instead he remained silent and we breathed each other in, both smelling like coconut and lemongrass.

After a few minutes, I mumbled, "Do you think there's a toothbrush anywhere?"

"Oh God," he groaned against my skin. "We really need to find toothbrushes!"

This had me smiling. The first genuine smile in a really long time.


	72. SEVENTY-TWO

_brokenbride - Thank you so much for the feedback! :)_

* * *

 **SEVENTY-TWO**

I was waiting for Max to return. We had been moved to a room with a queen-sized bed, because the adults had quickly realized that we wouldn't be leaving each others' sides. Considering the plan that Max's father had informed us of, it seemed that it was in their interest to keep us close. To strengthen our connection.

I didn't even bother to consider the fact that they had let two 16-year-olds sleep in the same bed together, and that with the knowledge of what we had been up to before (to create the double bond). I guess these were extenuating circumstances. Or maybe they had realized that we would only feel safe and _heal_ if we were close to each other. They never even _attempted_ to separate us.

Of course, it would help if I wasn't blocking the connection. Which was what Max and his father where fighting about right now. I knew, because they were only next door, and they were not using their inside voices.

Mr. Evans was frustrated because Max had just told him that I was blocking the connection. He was wondering how Max could let that happen, if Max really didn't know how much a connection would _help_ me in the current situation and that I needed it now more than ever. Max was yelling back, angry with his father because he clearly couldn't see how much I was hurting, how distant I was, how sharing a connection right now might overwhelm me and how he didn't want to push me.

I pulled the duvet over my head and pushed my hands over my ears as they started arguing about my eating habits. Or the lack thereof. How Max wanted me to have a free choice of what I wanted to eat and how that might help me get my appetite up, when Mr. Evans kept throwing medical facts about the need to slowly get a starved body used to food, through small amounts of easily digestible soups.

I began singing to myself (a desperate off-key noise) to drown out the noise further when my hands weren't enough and completely failed to hear someone enter my room.

But the person was careful enough to say my name repeatedly as she approached the bed and hence didn't scare me.

She pulled the duvet back, revealing my face as my hands slowly slid away from my ears. I registered Max's screamed objections through the wall against having me fight their fight, fight for their race, before I took in Diane's open face looking at me.

It was the first time she had come to visit. The first time I had seen her since she had begged me to take care of her son (something I had failed to do) on the eve of the meeting.

"Oh," she got out before she started crying.

Her tears pierced my heart and I felt myself crumbling in response to her maternal concern and love. No one had cried so openly for me before. Not even my father.

"You poor girl," she whispered and brushed a hand through my newly washed hair, tucking it gently behind my ear as she sank down on the bed.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, wiping at my tears as her own flowed unhindered down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

I squeezed my lips tightly together, but couldn't avert my eyes from her.

"How are you?" she asked and I bit hard into my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming.

Because it felt like there was something inside of me that needed to get out. That needed to be loud and almost destructive. Rather than calm and accepting.

Instead I said nothing.

Her eyes turned hesitant, the same look a lot of people around me had been giving me lately. Unsure of how to treat me. Walking on eggshells. "Can I hug you?"

It felt better than I thought it would, that someone actually asked for permission. So I had no problem giving it. Nodding slowly, she gave me a soft smile before leaning over me and pulling me up into her embrace.

It felt very natural to wrap my arms around her and let her hold me close. Her smell was unfamiliar to me (somewhat flowery), her embrace equally so, but still there was something very recognizable about her touch. About her concern.

She pulled back and pulled a napkin out of the front pocket of her jeans, wiping her eyes with an embarrassed laugh. "Look at me. Making a mess out of myself."

"Welcome to the club," I said quietly, not a single trace of humor on my face.

She looked at me perplexed for a second, before a smile broke out over her lips. Chuckling softly to herself, she put the napkin away. "Thank you."

"Have you seen Max yet?" I found myself asking, still worrying about him. He was still my highest priority. I'm sure he was missing his mother. I'm sure she was missing him. He would probably love to see her.

She shook her head, hitching it towards the wall with a grimace, "I can hear that he's awake now, but he was asleep when I saw him last."

"Right," I said. "Don't you want to see him?"

"Actually," Diane smiled at me, "I want to talk to you. Is that okay?"

I briefly considered my alternate choice: blocking out the Evans men's argument about me. It was not a hard decision to make. Especially since I didn't mind spending time in Diane's company.

"Sure," I replied and to my surprise watched Diane climb onto the bed, move around me and sit down next to me. She crossed her legs in front of her, looking like she belonged, and gave me a relaxed smile.

"I want to be honest with you," Diane said, making me instantly on the alert.

What did that mean? What horrible news was she about to bring me?

"Can I be honest with you?" Diane asked.

I nodded, looking at her with wide frightened eyes.

"I want to tell you _my_ story." There was a nervous tremble to her voice. "Because I want you to know that you're not alone, Liz. That you can always come to me if you have questions. About _anything_. Their abilities. Their emotions. The connection. Sex."

I blushed and dropped my eyes, but her words warmed me. I might never take her up on her offer, I might be too embarrassed to, but it meant a lot that she offered.

She didn't wait for me to say anything, instead filling the awkward moment with, "Our stories will differ, but fundamentally we're both humans brought into an alien society, an alien world. And sometimes you need someone to talk to. Someone that has shared the same experiences." She paused and gave me a weak smile. "There were times I really needed someone to talk to, but I could never confide in anyone. When I married Philip, I lost all of my human friends. We lost contact. I didn't know what to tell them any longer and it became too complicated. So I decided to just let them go."

I thought of Maria and my stomach twisted.

"I met Philip at the hospital." She stared off into the air, her eyes taking on a distant expression. "He was so handsome. Dark and mysterious. Many girls were charmed by him. But he was also distant. Difficult to get close to. He was a resident at the time and I was just volunteering."

She gave me a sheepish smile and shrugged, "You know, changing bed pans, taking out the trash, doing some administrative work. In my time I was called a candy striper." She shook her head, lost in memories. "I was so young. So naïve."

"I didn't know it at the time, but Philip had had his eyes on me for awhile. I never in a million years thought someone like him would be interested in me, so I barely dared to look at him. Whenever a doctor would walk into a room, I tried to keep to myself, not make any noise, trying not to disturb them."

I was hanging onto her every word, picturing the hospital environment she had worked in, picturing her red-and-white-striped uniform and a younger dark-haired Philip Evans.

Diane cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. "One day he approached me. Asked if I wanted to help out with a study he was doing. Said he needed a sample of my blood."

A shiver ran down my spine, my mouth going dry.

Diane laughed embarrassed. "Of course I didn't say no. I was honored. Flattered." She sighed. "After that, he started courting me. We went on a couple of dates." She shook her head. "I couldn't believe my luck. That someone like him would want to date _me_."

I was wondering what Mr. Evans had wanted with her blood, but I couldn't interrupt. I was sure that Diane would tell me eventually.

"He was the first man I had sex with," Diane declared and my first feeling was not embarrassment at her honesty, but solidarity at the realization that I was not the only one to share my first sexual experience with an alien.

Diane glanced at me before looking down at her hands as she continued, "I didn't really have anything to compare it to, considering that I had no prior experience." She looked at me, searched my face momentarily. "I hope it's okay that I'm being this frank with you."

"It's..." I had to stop to clear my throat. I had listened to her so intently that I had forgotten how to speak. "It's okay."

What else should I say? That I was really grateful that she was sharing this with me? Because I was. But I wasn't courageous enough to admit it.

Diane smiled, "Okay," took a deep breath and continued, "The sex was...amazing. I had never felt anything like it. Philip wasn't overly attentive to me, but the feelings... It was as if I was feeling what _he_ was feeling while _I_ was experiencing it."

Heat crept up my neck and cheeks, and I had to turn my face away as her words resonate too intimately with my own experiences.

Her eyes brushed over my profile, but didn't comment on my reaction. "Of course, I didn't know anything about who he really was at that point. I didn't know that we had just formed a connection. I just thought that we had a real connection. You know, a real _human_ connection. That we were in tune with each other." She took a deep breath. "I was already in love with him, but I fell even harder after that. I was convinced that he was the man for me. That we were soulmates. Shortly thereafter, I found out that I was pregnant."

"You..?" I gasped.

Diane looked embarrassed. "Yes. We had been a bit careless with protection, I'm afraid. But I understood later that it had been a completely deliberate decision on my husband's side. He's not the type of person that wouldn't keep track of something like that."

I thought of Max and all the condoms he had brought to the house in Hondo. The memory held a touch of bittersweetness. Of course Mr. Evans wouldn't forget protection. Of course it had been 'planned'. But for what reason?

Diane turned around in her seat to face me more fully and made sure to catch my eyes before she said, "I want you to understand that my husband is not a bad man. But it might seem that way from what I'm about to tell you." She grimaced. "Max has always had trouble swallowing that detail. He wasn't even supposed to know about it, but he overheard it during one of my and Philip's...'discussions'."

Right. I thought back to Max's reaction when I had asked if his mother had married his father voluntarily. How something had seemed off about his reply. Maybe I would finally find out the reason why.

"The ability that Philip has - the same ability that Max has inherited - is very rare. I'm sure you know of this by now."

I nodded quietly. Oh yes.

"Philip was under a lot of pressure to have a child with the healing trait. But it isn't just simply passed on to the child of a healer only because the father is a healer. The mother must be compatible. Have the right genetic code to produce that child."

My eyes widened in horror. No... It couldn't be. "You're a gaea?"

Diane gave me a sad smile, almost as if she had wished she was, just so that she could have shouldered that burden with me. "No, sweetheart."

"But...you...?" I was confused.

"It's just simple genetics. Like you have a higher chance of having a child with blue eyes if both you and your significant other have blue eyes."

"Right," I mumbled, both feeling comforted and disappointed that she wasn't like me. That she wasn't like my mom. I looked at her and whispered, "That's why he needed your blood?"

Diane nodded.

"Is that why he chose you?" I asked, a sad twinge in my heart. "Because of your blood?"

She looked away for a brief moment before meeting my sad eyes. "He would never admit to it out loud, but yes. I'm almost completely positive he did. I was not the only girl in his 'study'."

"But you were the only one he dated?"

"Yes," Diane nodded. "As far as I know. I was the one with the most compatible genetics. The one most likely to produce a child with the healing trait."

"And if you hadn't?" I asked, wondering if the answer to that question was the reason Max had reacted to, or if it had been because his father hadn't fallen in love, but instead had chosen his mother for purely genetic reasons.

Diane hesitated before she stated quietly, "He would have made sure that I aborted."

I felt myself go pale, the feelings about the alien race too close to the surface, too easily brought forward. The concept that there might be so much these aliens had already done to humans that I didn't know about made me weak with fear, and nausea rose in my throat.

This is what Max had been upset about. This is what he hadn't approved of.

"But you were pregnant with Max and Isabel, right?" I asked faintly. "And Max had the healing trait."

Diane nodded. She was looking at me closely, probably having noted my reaction. "And considering that he would let me go through with the pregnancy and what could happen during alien pregnancies, he had to tell me about his origins. Had to marry me."

I bit my lip. "And that wasn't something he wanted?" He had picked her out, after all. Like some genetic experiment.

"He was afraid I would run. Run with his children. Or even harm the fetuses. Want them out of me." She looked me straight in the eyes and added, "But I could never do that. Quite early on I formed a connection to them. That's what happens. You feel their presence in your mind, in your body. Sadly, it disappears once they are born."

I considered what she had said for a quiet moment before tentatively asking, "Do you love him?"

Diane nodded. "Yes. I always have. Even when he told me the truth. Even when he didn't seem to love me."

My heart ached for her and I couldn't help but compare her story to mine and Max's. How Max had gone against every alien protocol there was just because he had prioritized love. No wonder there was tension between him and his dad. Philip Evans hadn't been allowed to choose his partner out of love; he had been forced to choose a suitable genetic mate to ensure that his special trait was carried on. Potentially sacrificing his own happiness to ensure the success of the alien community.

"Does he love you now?" I hoped I wasn't overstepping any invisible borders by asking, but Diane didn't seem offended.

She offered me a soft smile. A secretive smile. "Yes. Very much. We have grown very close over the years. Philip has grown into himself. And I think our children has helped a lot. Just the fact that they are both very emotional, very emphatic. They have thrown him more curveballs and eye-openers than he ever could have anticipated. Maybe that's why he eventually started loving me for real. Because he gradually became more human."

I didn't want to ask what it was like to be with an alien. Because Mr. Evans was a pure alien, after all. To not have someone understand your emotions, to be unable to show emotions.

We heard the door slam next door, shaking the wall we were leaning our backs up against, before moments later Max walked through the door.

He was upset. Really upset. I could practically see it vibrate off his body.

But seeing his mother seated next to me on the bed briefly interrupted his distress. "Mom?"

Diane grew teary-eyed again, which warmed my heart. It was nice to see that someone other than me could cry so much. I felt a bit sorry for Max, though, when a softly sobbing Diane climbed off the bed and walked up to her son.

Poor Max was surrounded by crying women.

"Max," Diane whispered and put her arms around her son.

Max looked confused as he returned his mother's hug. He was looking at me over his mother's shoulder, silently asking me if everything was okay. I managed a small smile for him.

Max returned it before he pulled back and kissed his mother on the cheek. "What are you doing here, Mom?"

"I was talking to Liz," Diane answered and gave me a warm smile over her shoulder. "She needed to listen to something else than you and your father dictating her life."

Max flushed, looking both contrite and angry. "We weren't dict-"

"I'm not the one you need to convince," Diane interrupted and Max looked worried as he glanced at me.

"What have you been talking about?" he asked suspiciously.

"Life, love, sex," Diane answered good-naturedly and laughed as Max's face turned red.

I, too, found it quite amusing actually. The possibilities of what Diane and I might have discussed were endless. Enough to make Max nervous.

"I'm so happy to have you back," Diane said and pulled Max into another hug. I watched Max's face return to normal face color and his face relaxed. It was beautiful to watch, the love Max had for his mother.

"I'm happy to be back," Max said quietly, his statement heavy with unspoken confessions about his time in captivity.

"He was doing his best to help you, you know," Diane said, referring to Max's father.

Max took a deep breath, his eyes hardening as he pulled away from his mother. Apparently, her statement brought back the irritation he had been carrying while entering the room.

"When he should have been helping her," Max said, not looking at me but it was no secret who he was referring to.

"He couldn't get to her," Diane tried to meddle. "I'm sure he's told you that. He tried his best to keep you strong so that _you_ could protect her."

"Well," Max said tightly. "He should have tried harder."

"Max..." Diane said slowly.

"No, Mom, you know what?" Max voice rose in biting anger. "Do you have any idea what almost happened to her? What they almost did? What they _did_ do?"

Diane looked back at me worriedly, but I had already dropped my head, averted my eyes, and was slowly crawling back inside my mind.

"I..." Diane whispered at a loss of words.

"Exactly!" Max practically shouted and I squeezed my eyes closed at the sound. I didn't like when he yelled. I didn't like when he yelled at his mother.

"You _don't_ know! Not even _I_ know, because she won't let me in! They hurt her so much that she's cut me out!"

"Please stop," I whispered.

No one heard me.

"I'm really sorry about that, Max, but if you would just lis-"

"No," Max refuted. "No, I'm done listening. Now you listen to me. Dad wants to take her out on a battlefield. He wants to risk her life - again - for a cause that has only hurt her."

"I'm sure he doesn't mean it like-"

"Please stop," I said, louder this time, pressing my hands to my ears.

"She's in there somewhere, but I'm afraid of what will happen if we force her to fight. If they use us like that-"

" _Stooop!_ " I screamed, effectively cutting off all heated discussions in the room.

I don't know how they reacted. Don't know if they were looking at each other or even if they exchanged any words. I heard nothing behind the hands pressed to my ears.

But not many seconds passed until I felt the bed dip next to me and his hands grab my upper arms, gently pulling me onto his lap. I deflated against him, my knees sliding to the sides of his hips and my face buried into his chest.

His hands were moving soothingly up and down my spine, threading through my hair, and back to my back again. In a slow pattern of regret.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry."

I wished for a time when he wouldn't have to be sorry anymore. When he wouldn't have to apologize to me.


	73. SEVENTY-THREE

**SEVENTY-THREE**

I was back in the white bathroom. But there was no door. No way out. My voice bounced off the walls as I called for help, pounding my fists against the unrelenting white tiles.

No one came to my rescue. I was all alone.

Something warm and wet dripped on my shoulder. I flinched and looked up.

I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

His arms were around my body, first enhancing my panic with its confinement, until I heard his voice, felt his breath against my ear, and opened my eyes to the darkness of the room.

No whiteness. No underdeveloped bleeding fetuses hanging from the ceiling.

I inhaled sharply, whimpering, as the image refused to leave my mind. The ceiling of blood, filled with my mother's unborn babies.

I let him rock me, let him kiss my neck and tell me that it was only a nightmare. Over and over again. But it took a long time before I could fall asleep again.

I must have just closed my eyes as Max bolted up next to me, a terrorized scream of "Liiiiz!" ripping from the depths of his chest.

My pulse was pounding so loudly through my body that it took me a second to get my body to move, to get over the fear that we were threatened, that someone was here to take us.

The fear that it was not only the two of us here. Two frightened teenagers with night terrors.

"Max," I said, grabbing a hold of his arm. "I'm here. You're here with me."

His breathing slowed down and my fingers were trembling with adrenaline around his bicep as I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders become more even. Then his head dropped forward into his hands and his harsh sobs ripped through the night.

I sat paralyzed, my hand frozen on his arm. I had never heard him cry like that before. Uncertainly, I moved closer to him on my knees and wrapped my arms around his back, pressing my cheek to the back of his neck. He grabbed my hands as they touched his elbows and pressed them to his chest.

I felt helpless. Lost. I had no idea what had happened to Max in captivity. What they had exposed him to. If he had been physically tortured, if they had played mind games with him.

His sobs gradually softened, quieted and then disappeared. Without a sound, he turned in the circle of my arms, positioning us face to face. His eyes were haunted, his expression frightened. He looked pale in the darkness.

Cautiously, he moved his hands over my face, let his fingers slide down my forehead, over my eyelids, down my lips, and trailing along the lines of my jaw. His eyes followed the movements of his hands while my eyes traced the expressions on his face.

His palms brushed down my neck and his eyes flickered to mine as I tensed at the proximity, the phantom fingers of Sean's strangle around my neck still fresh in my memory. Max quickly, although gently, moved away from the area, most likely remembering what he had seen Sean doing to me through my memories. His fingers dragged along my collarbone, dipping under the hem of my T-shirt.

I could see the request in his eyes even before he voiced it, the touch of his fingers blazing against my skin. "Can I...?"

He was uncomfortable. Afraid of my answer? His distress was coming off him in waves. He was looking for something and if I could help him find it, I would.

I nodded my consent and he searched out the bottom of my T-shirt and pulled it over my head. I was naked underneath.

I thought of how calm he had appeared in the shower with me earlier. Of the changes to his body while his mind had appeared strong.

I thought about how much his current state contradicted that impression of control and strength. Now, his eyes were wet and his hands trembled as he barely touched me.

And it hit me.

This was Max. The real Max. Max out of control. Vulnerable Max. Afraid to do wrong, to unintentionally cause harm. The Max I had always met in the daylight had put up a facade of fearlessness. To keep me up. To support me.

But something had frightened him. Something in his mind, a memory, had made him forget how to plug into that strength.

Now I needed to support him. _Wanted_ to support him.

So when he hesitated to touch me, I reached out to pull his shirt over his head, remembering how he had once confessed to needing the feel of skin against skin to connect. Hoping that was what he needed right now.

Hoping that he didn't need the actual connection because I wasn't sure I could give him that yet.

He sat quietly, his arms dropped to his sides, as I lifted his hand and pressed it against the top of my breast, over my heart.

"I'm okay," I whispered, struggling to keep my voice stable. I was deeply affected by the tremors in his hand against my skin. I was struggling to not let anger fuel me. Anger at what they had done to him. How they had, obviously, destroyed something inside of him. But anger had no room here. Anger was not welcomed here.

"I'm whole." I moved his hand slowly down over my breast - my nipple reacting instinctively to his touch - down over the ridges of my ribs and my abdomen. I didn't know if I had been injured in his nightmare, but his reaction had made me suspect it. His need to 'look at me'.

I continued to move his hand down to my hipbone before changing direction and moving along the upper border of my panties, the heel of his palm rubbing against my belly before we reached the opposite hip.

"You don't have to-" Max started, but my lips on his interrupted him.

A burst of heat moved through my body and I whimpered. I hadn't expected that feeling. I hadn't kissed him in so long. Not since just waking up after we had been 'rescued'. Which in my world was an eternity.

I pressed my breasts against his chest, my fingers grabbing at the hair at the nape of his neck as I deepened the kiss.

At that point I could feel the shift in my mind. The connection wanting to break free.

I quickly pulled back, avoiding his eyes. "Maybe we should lie down." I was looking down at my chest, suddenly aware of the chill of the night air. "Try and get some sleep."

He placed his hand in the curve of my neck before sliding it up to cradle my cheek.

I still couldn't meet his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered. "You know that, right?"

My heart twisted, my chest tightened. I clenched my fists, grabbing bed linen in my grip before I looked up at him.

He looked devastated. Lonely. And I felt my heart breaking. I mimicked his movement and brought my hand up to cradle his cheek. Leaning in I placed a slow light kiss on his lips. He had his eyes closed as I pulled back and whispered, "I love you. So much that it hurts."

His eyes opened and his golden irises looked black in the night.

"I'm sorry for shutting you out," I whispered, wanting to ease the pain in his eyes. Wanting desperately to comfort him. As much as I could. As much as my heart would allow.

He searched my eyes as I continued, "I don't think I can handle it right now. I'm just...there's so many things to work through. I don't know where I'm at, what I'm feeling." I caught the fear in his eyes and hurried to add, "But not about you. I'm not confused about you." My hand tightened in its hold against his cheek. "Okay?"

He didn't look like he believed me, but he nodded.

"And I'm sorry that it might jeopardize this whole rebellion thingy," I rushed on, needing to get it out. "Because we should be strengthening our connection right now, not blocking it. But I just can't-"

"Fuck the rebellion," Max said darkly. "We've done enough for that fucking rebellion."

"But we have to-" I had heard Mr. Evans' words. I knew what he had said. The activists were not strong enough to stand up against Command on their own. If we didn't-

"We don't have to do anything," Max interrupted both my thinking and my audible protest. "We have to get healthy. Okay? We can't help them right now."

I sighed. "I know you're trying to protect me, but-"

He closed his eyes, his mouth tight. "Let's not talk about it, okay? Not tonight. Not now."

I would love if we could just screw it all. If we could just ignore the problem and try and pick up the pieces of our lives. Focus on us and on getting well. Or at least, getting _better_.

But I knew that Max was very well aware of the fact that we weren't free yet. We had been thrown into a false security, hidden away at a secret location while members of the rebellion were trying to track down Command and attempting to buy us time.

So that we would get ready. Ready to save the Antarians.

"Okay," I relented. I didn't really want to talk about something like that in the middle of the night anyway. Maybe I shouldn't bring up that I was once again reconsidering our previous option of running away and going underground.

Maybe I should save that topic until...tomorrow night.

"Let's try and get some sleep," Max said, pulling me down next to him, our shirts forgotten on the floor.

That phrase scared me more than anything. Sleeping had become the thing I feared the most.

Hours and hours of reliving my monsters.

* * *

"What do you feel like eating?" dad asked me that following morning.

Max and I had managed to get some sleep after our nightly talk. I had a feeling it had something to do with our unclothed proximity, making us feel connected physically even if not mentally. My dreams had continued, being uncomfortable and chilling the emptiness in my chest, but they hadn't been straight-out night terrors. Not like the first one.

"I don't know," I mumbled, looking over the expanse of the breakfast table.

I guess Max had gotten his wish through. I hadn't seen this many food options in a long time. Certainly not for breakfast. There was probably only one dish missing: soup. Which is what Mr. Evans would have wanted me to eat every single meal of the day if he had gotten his wish through.

Max had left me alone with my dad, claiming that he needed to talk about something with his own dad. So it was just me and my dad right now, seated across from each other with a sea of food in between us. Excluding the breakfast buffet, it might have looked like any other day. Me getting ready for school, dad getting ready for work.

But it would take a lot more than this to fool me.

"I could make you some french toast," dad suggested. His eyes were glittering in a overly happy smile; trying to get me motivated, excited.

It was a bit strange, I had to admit. My body had been screaming for food when I'd had no access to it in captivity, but now, when I was released and seated in front of so much mouth-watering food that it should make me want to stuff myself silly with it, I had no appetite.

I slowly shook my head, while on one level wishing that I could please him. Wanting to make him happy. So I was trying to figure out what type of food I would have the mildest aversion to. Which food I would be most likely to keep down.

"Pancakes?" dad proposed hopefully.

My mind flashed to Max's pancakes and my lip trembled. Dad caught the instant sheen of tears in my eyes and hurried to come up with another suggestion, "Or maybe just some hot chocolate?"

Hot chocolate. That didn't sound all that bad. I nodded slowly, one side of my mouth pulling north ever so slightly, "Yes, thank you."

Dad sighed in relief and left the table to make me a cup of hot chocolate.

I fingered the edge of the plate in front of me, hesitating, before going with it and asking, "Dad?"

"Hm," dad replied.

He was putting a skillet on the stove and pouring milk into it as I asked, "How long have you known?"

His answer was innocent and unknowing. "Known what, honey?"

"About the existence of aliens," I stated quietly.

He paused for a second, before clearing his throat, finding the package of Swiss Miss on the counter and placing it next to the saucepan. "Since I met mom."

I paled, my gasp a croak, "Wh-what?"

But not even my mom had known. Her mind had been erased. Repeatedly.

"As mom and I got more serious and it started to become obvious that we were being serious about each other, I was contacted by James Dresden."

Dresden. I had heard that name before. Mr. Evans had mentioned it yesterday, at our meeting. Where I had been partly tuned out. He had been the black-haired man on the council, the man at the meeting I hadn't been able to place.

"My memories have been unlocked by now, which is why I can tell you this."

"Okay..." I whispered. Maybe nothing should no longer surprise me, but it was amazing that it still did.

"He told me this most amazing thing about aliens and Nancy's role in their society. He told me the importance of her having a child and that there were concerns about her fertility, considering that she had failed to conceive by her bonded, Steven Carter." Dad laughed, stirring the milk slowly. "He must have anticipated my reaction, but it was still funny how offended he seemed to be when I basically laughed him in the face."

Dad's glittering eyes looked over at me and he shrugged. "What was I supposed to believe? That he was a green little man in a human suit, talking about powers and secret societies?"

Heat vapor was billowing up from the milk, indicating that it was close to simmering, so dad poured in the Swiss Miss, stirred and turned to retrieve a cup.

"Anyway, I naturally asked why he was telling me all of that, considering that they were so secretive. It was not like it directly concerned me. In the off-hand chance that it actually held some truth, I was mostly concerned of what it meant for my girlfriend, but I really couldn't figure out my role in the whole thing. Except fathering Nancy's child, apparently."

I watched the light brown fluid being poured from the pan into the cup.

"Was mom with you? When he told you?" I asked.

Dad shook his head, turned off the stove and returned to the table, placing the hot cup in front of me. "No. I thought I was going to a business meeting."

"Did they hurt you?" I whispered.

He gave me a caring smile and put his hand on top of mine, squeezing my fingers gently. "No, honey."

"So then... You've known this whole time? Even when mom didn't?"

"Not really," Dad said, grabbing a piece of toast. "Mr. Dresden told me that in case of the birth of a child, me and Nance's child, I would need to protect our child if Nancy died. He told me that there were already protective measures in place to ensure the child's safety, but in the case of a premature death, while the child was still too young to make it on her own, I would have to step in and protect the child."

"But..." I grimaced incredulously. "Isn't that your 'job' anyway, as a father?"

He chuckled, spreading butter on top of his toast. "My thought exactly." He looked up at me and added seriously, "But I might have needed to protect you against alien things, in a world that I was not familiar with. Hence, I needed to have the information to help you, to not be freaked out."

"And how did that go?" I asked bitterly, thinking of the circumstances surrounding my mother's death, of me being assaulted by some guy at school, of me disappearing on him for days. When was that information supposed to have helped him step in?

"Well, I was a guinea pig. They had never tried this before. So I guess it didn't really work out the way they had planned. I was supposed to have realized what was going on the second your mother died in that fire. But the information was not available to me."

I frowned. "Why didn't they just _tell you_ that piece of information when mom died? Call you in for another business meeting?"

His face matched my frown and I got the feeling that he wasn't really sure about that himself. "I guess there were too many things going on at the time. They probably forgot about me."

"Or maybe they didn't want you to know any longer," I whispered, almost to myself. "Maybe you had served your purpose and it would be better for _them_ if you remained ignorant. Especially considering that they were preparing to take me in at the time, they didn't want to explain that whole thing to you."

"You were no longer a child that needed protecting," dad said slowly, realization crossing his face. "My protection would only hinder them."

I nodded slowly, but still felt a bit lost about the technical aspects of my father's 'hidden information'. "So wait... They told you all of this information about their society and then erased your mind? What's the point of that?"

Dad shook his head. "No..." His voice trailed off with a frown and he hitched his chin towards the cup in front of me. "Don't forget your cocoa."

"Right," I agreed and took an experimental sip of the hot fluid just to make him happy. It actually tasted really good. I took another sip before putting it back on the table.

"The method that was used on me was different. They 'locked' the information away. It was supposed to come forward in response to certain stressors. The stress of losing your wife, for instance. But since a lot of things in life can be stressful, they added a safe-word. Something that would let them know that I was close to accessing the information. And if it wasn't the right time, they would step in and repeat the process. Lock it away more firmly, reset the system, so to speak."

He smiled at me sheepishly, but my head was too rumbled with thoughts for me to take him up on that smile. "What was the safe-word?"

"At first it was 'evanescent'," dad informed. "It had to be an unusual word, something that I wouldn't accidentally use particularly often." He finished adding slices of sausage to his toast and took a bite, adding around his mouthful, "But when you were born, and we named you Elizabeth, they changed it to 'Ella'. They thought it would be easier if the safe-word was actually directly connected to _you_."

I stilled. My voice was barely there as I breathed, "You called me that a lot when I was little, but then you stopped."

He paled, but tried to hide it between his bites of toast. "It was due to a combination of things. A lot of things were happening to mom while you were growing up, a lot of alien things. I noticed that things weren't adding up, so the confusion and the frustration threatened to remove the 'lock' on that information about aliens. Also, they hadn't really perfected the method yet." He shook his head slowly, reaching for his cup of coffee. "Let's just say that I went to a lot of business meetings when you were growing up."

"Dad..." I whispered, worried about his health. Worried what that process might have done to him, over and over again.

He saw my concern, heard my fear, and grabbed my hand again. "It's not the same as the mind wipes, trust me. This is a much gentler process. It's like a package of information, hidden away in my memory. They never had to search through my mind and remove things, they just had to..." he paused as he concentrated on finding the most descriptive terms, "...improve the lock from time to time." He looked guilty for a second before adding, "Of course, they had to erase some memories from me from time to time as well. When their wipe of Nancy's memories wasn't the best and she would leak things."

"Leak things...?" I whispered.

"She would say odd things, that would sound very out of place for someone without the knowledge of aliens."

"Did you know..." I took a deep breath and swallowed, feeling incredibly uncomfortable but needing to know. "Did you know what mom's role was? How they 'utilized' her?"

Dad dropped his eyes, his shoulders slumping forward, suddenly looking very tired and adding years to his real age. "I do now. I didn't when she was alive, when she was being...used."

"Do you know what my role is? To them?" my voice was empty.

He looked up and met my eyes, tears running down his cheeks. "I do now."

I nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of my cheek. My voice sounded cold, too cold, even to my own ears. "Do you want me to tell you what they did? What kind of monsters they are?"

The tears were rolling quicker down his cheeks now, a waterfall of tears. Silently, he shook his head.

"Do you want me to tell you what they did to mom? What _he_ did?"

He shook his head quicker, tightening his hand over mine. "Baby, no..."

My voice broke with my own tears. "They're sick, Dad. The things they did to mom..."

"Sometimes she flinched when I touched her," dad said quietly, his voice distorted by his grief, by the traces of anger I could see in his eyes. "And I never could explain why."

I swallowed back the nausea. "I can." In my mind, the Sergeant was making her nose bleed with his beatings as he forced himself inside of her. Her screams echoed in my head, her sobs cleaved through my heart.

"If I had known before..." dad mumbled, frustratedly brushing at the tears on his face.

"It's better that you didn't," I said quietly, pulling my hand out from underneath his and wiping my face dry of the tears with both of my hands. "They would have killed you for it."

I got to my feet and looked down at the half-empty cup of hot chocolate, knowing that I wouldn't enjoy that taste for a long time, and added, "Because you're human. Your life means nothing to them."

His sobs echoed off the walls as I left the room, walking as fast as my still weak legs would allow, pressing my hands to my ears to offer me silence. But I couldn't silence the voices inside my head; the memories. I pulled the door open to the bathroom, shut it behind me, locked it with shaking hands and slid the floor.

There were no more tears in me. Instead I sat staring at the room I hated because of the associated memories. Still, it was the only room I felt safe in nowadays. Because it was similar to the bathroom that had given me the false sensation of a safe place during my days of torture.


	74. SEVENTY-FOUR

_I'm so sorry for making you wait. Real life got in between. To make up for that, I'm posting two chapters today._

 _dootadoot - thank you so so much!_

* * *

 **SEVENTY-FOUR**

At first, Max had respected the locked bathroom door, even though I knew that he easily could unlock it with his powers. He had pleaded with me to open the door, trying to get me to talk to him. But after ten minutes of that, it had grown silent.

I knew he was just outside though. I didn't need a connection to know that.

But when the day turned into evening and I was still seated on the cold tiled floor, Max ignored the lock and came inside.

I didn't fight him when he wordlessly reached down and picked me up, cradling me in his arms. I was too tired, too numb. I tried to enjoy the smell of his skin as I rested the side of my head on his shoulder, but I was empty. Apathetic.

I don't know if there was anyone else outside the bathroom. If we met anyone on the way to our bedroom. I didn't register anything except the rocking of my body in his arms with every step he took.

As he placed me on our bed, I automatically curled up on my side, moving back in time to when I had been a fetus, protected in my mother's uterus. Safe and blissfully ignorant about the evils of the world.

I was aware of Max walking away from the bed and closing the door. Locking it. The human way. Probably so that I could get out if I needed to.

I was aware of him pulling his shirt over his head as he walked back towards the bed, of him unbuttoning his jeans and kicking off his shoes even before he reached me.

Wearing only his boxers, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on my right eyelid and one on my left. His fingers brushed down my cheek. Slowly. Then he carefully started undressing me.

I was jointless. Like a rag doll. My arms and legs moved in whatever direction he wanted them to go. My pajama bottoms slid slowly down my legs. My sweatshirt was pulled over my head, followed by the white tank top.

When I was in nothing but white cotton panties, I curled back up. Knees to my chest, head against my knees, and closed my eyes. I felt his eyes on my body, on my head, and felt the heaviness of the silence around us, before I heard him move around the bed and start pulling the duvet back.

The bed dipped as he climbed on top of it, crawling towards me. His hands felt big, stronger than usual, as they circled my upper arms.

Maybe it wasn't his hands that were bigger. Maybe it was my arms that were smaller.

Effortlessly, he pulled me up against his seated body. It must be difficult to move me, considering that I had turned limp, but he barely jostled me. He was moving me around as if I was half the size I was. My thighs draped across his, my inner thighs reacting to the sensations of the hair on his legs, but the reaction never reaching my brain. My breasts pressed into his chest, the contact intimate and warm, but I only felt cold.

My arms were hanging lifelessly over his upper arms, as he wrapped his arms around my back and brought me closer. Tightly.

His breath was alive and warm against my neck, his tears real and wet as they dripped on my shoulder and rolled down over my collarbone, over my breast.

"Let me in," he whispered, lifting me slightly when my lifeless body wanted to slide heavily downwards in his grip. "Liz, please."

My eyes were closed, my forehead was resting against the top of his chest, and I knew that I should feel something when I heard the break in his voice, when I felt his heart vibrate in the air around me.

But I was tired. So tired.

"Don't give them the satisfaction," Max breathed. "Don't give them the power to torture you even after they're dead."

Their dead bodies sprung into my mind. Of Sean grabbing my wrist and whispering his final word of hatred to me before life left him. Of the Sergeant already turning back into an alien in his death; an awful-looking alien, not at all like the little cute green man the human society had laughed at.

Mr. Evans had told me, at that first meeting after our rescue, that there had been nothing left of the Carter men. Alien bodies turned to ashes within minutes of their deaths.

A shiver raced through me and Max squeezed me harder.

"They did horrible things to you. But you survived. You fought back. You didn't let them win."

 _Oh sweet sweet Max_ , I thought. _It doesn't matter. That doesn't make any difference._

"Can we sleep now?" I asked quietly. My voice flat.

He froze at my voice and either he was considering my request or he was thinking about if he should say something else, because he hesitated before pulling back, keeping my body upright with the support of his hands against my shoulder blades.

He gave me a soft smile as I looked into his eyes. "Sure. Of course."

I was all cried out. I wanted to sleep. My body just wanted to sleep. And sleep. And sleep. But I knew what was waiting for me as soon as my eyes closed. And it scared me into shocked indifference.

He leaned me backwards, while he leaned forward and pulled the duvet more out of the way, to free up a duvet-free space for me to lay down.

I closed my eyes (tightly tightly), pulled my legs up to my stomach, my fisted hands to my chin, with my back towards Max. He moved around me for a second, pulling the comforter over our bodies, before he snuggled close, spooning around my back, nestling his chin into the crook of my neck and putting his hand over my waist.

Cautiously, as if asking for permission, he searched out one of my hands. I let him take it, let him interlace our fingers, and then press them up against my protruding breast bone. His underarm automatically pressed up against the underside of my breast and I distractedly noted how the heat from his intimate touch failed to reach through the armor around my heart.

We laid there for awhile, most likely listening to each other's breathing, knowing that we were both awake. I don't know which of us fell asleep first, but sleep didn't come quickly.

When I awoke, I was outside the bed, on the floor, curled up in a corner, screaming my head off as Max crouched in front of my trying to catch my flailing arms.

"Wake up! Wake up, Liz," he repeated. Over and over again.

When I recognized where I was, my screams grew quiet and the tears I thought I had no more of, rolled down my cheeks.

The door opened at the other end of the room, making me jump, and I watched Max push his hand out towards the door defensively, as if haunted by both my own and his shadows. I didn't look to see who it was. I was focusing on trying to get my heart back under control.

"She's fine. She's fine," Max told whoever was at the door. "We're fine."

"Maybe I should sedate her," the voice of Mr. Evans said and my blood ran cold.

Max's eyes flickered to my face and his response was clear, forcibly vehement, "No."

"Max, this can't go on."

"She's not a machine," Max snapped angrily, looking over at the door. "We can't just make everything go away by the switch of a button."

"I know that, son. Don't be ridi-"

"Leave us alone," Max mumbled, looking at me again.

"Max, just-"

Raising his voice, Max repeated, "Leave us alone, _Dad_."

There was no reply. Only the closing of the door.

Max looked at me quietly, a stormy ocean in his eyes, before he crawled closer to me, taking a seat right in front of me, and demanded darkly, "Tell me."

I worried my bottom lip and shook my head.

"Tell me," he repeated, his command forceful, but his touch gentle as he reached out and pulled the bottom lip out between my teeth with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm too late," I whispered, my voice unsteady and breakable from the screaming.

"For what?" he asked gently.

"When Sean shot you."

Max frowned. "The knife?"

I shook my head. "No. At the meeting. The energy blast."

" _You_ were shot," Max corrected me.

I dropped my eyes and whispered, "Not this time. Not in my dreams."

"What happens?" he asked, his voice distant while at the same time present.

"The blast makes you fly through the air and you hit the wall behind us. I run up to you and you're-" the sob ripped through me.

He leaned in and brushed his thumb down my cheek, collecting my tears. "Shh. I'm right here."

"You have a big hole in your chest," I whispered. "I can see straight through you. I can see the white wall through your chest. Your heart...is gone. Your lungs are hanging in fleshy strips around the hole, and your eyes are dead." I whimpered. "Dead."

He put his arms around me and gently rocked our bodies, kissing my face, my neck. Brushing his hands through my hair.

"That's not possible, you know," he whispered after awhile, when my eyes started to dry and my sobs were infrequent and empty. "The blasts can't do that."

"I guess I should blame my overactive imagination for that one," I mumbled and let him kiss my closed eyes.

"Damn your imagination," he said lightly, touching his lips to mine in a brief kiss. The kiss, albeit fleeting, shot straight into the center of my shocked heart.

As he pulled back, his eyes searching my face, I gathered my courage to ask, "Do you really think that the connection might help us? Heal us?"

"It's worth a shot, don't you think?" I didn't reply and his eyes turned even more worried. "You don't think so?"

"What if it does the opposite? What if it breaks us?"

He searched my eyes. "That's what you're afraid of? That's why you're hiding?"

"I already know how overwhelming it can be," I said quietly. "What if I were to feel your experiences too? I can't even deal with my own. And you would have to deal with mine."

"Don't worry about me," Max said strongly. "I can handle it."

I thought of his heartbreaking sobs in the middle of the night. Just the night before. Could he really? Could he handle it?

"Let me ask you something," Max implored softly. "When I woke up yesterday, the connection was still there between us. You held it open until the meeting. In that time, did you feel overwhelmed?"

"You were holding back," I protested weakly.

Max shook his head. "Not necessarily. I wasn't even filtering. I was just focused on other things. Focused on having you back in my arms. Of being able to see that you were alive and safe."

"But ruined," I added quietly, averting my eyes in shame.

He put his finger under my chin and had me look up at him again, shaking his head. "No. Not ruined." He smiled gently at me. "You were always - easily - the most beautiful girl in the room. You still are."

His statement made me irritated. "Beautiful, how could-?"

His smile widened. "There she is."

I squeezed my lips together, feeling like he was making fun of me, even though I knew - deep down - that he really wasn't.

"You're beautiful," he said when I fell into my (sulky) role of rejection. He shrugged lightly, "A bit skinny, but gorgeous."

"I thought aliens had perfect vision," I mumbled grumpily and Max laughed softly.

Laughed. He actually laughed.

I couldn't help but curiously look up at him through my eyelashes, just to catch the amusement on his lips.

"Any other girl would be dead by now, but you aren't," Max mused, making a chill run down my spine. Making me realize that I was seated on a cold floor, wearing only my underwear.

"Not you." He shook his head in amazement. "You didn't survive, you _conquered_. Your only weakness seems to be your inability to see your own strength. To see how much you shocked them. How in the end, you had made them _fear_ you. You, a human girl. A teenager. They were so afraid of you that they had Command deliver you to me. Neither Sarge nor Sean would touch you. Command, with his almighty powers, decided to give you a neurotransmitter blocker, afraid that you might use any powers on _him_."

"Only because of you," I grumbled, not ready to accept what he was telling me, not ready to admit that his words were spreading like a fire through my body, weakening my insecurities, strengthening my assets. "Because of the bond."

"Don't sell yourself short," he whispered and stole a kiss, letting his lips linger. Causing my body to tremble with feelings I was trying to ignore. "The bond can only support you and collect our combined energy. It can't direct it. It can't decide what you make of it. You're even blocking it right now, just because you decided that you could. Something you were doing even before we had bonded that second time."

I held his eyes, letting our breaths dance around each other in the inch of space between our mouths, as I considered his words, as I felt alive for the first time in three weeks. As I felt hope at the tips of my fingers, inching to crawl further up my body, into my heart.

Maybe I would never get rid of the monsters in my head.

But maybe I could learn to stand up to them. Take back my power. Reclaim the right to my own life.

My arms moved with their own force, sliding up his bare arms, over his shoulders, up his neck and stopped at the sharpness of his jaw.

He never once let go of my eyes. He didn't even blink. Instead I watched his eyes grow darker and darker with heated flames, waiting for me.

Then I was pulling his face towards mine, closing that annoying distance between our mouths, and clashing our lips together.


	75. SEVENTY-FIVE

_Note: I posted two chapters today, so if you've missed reading 74, go back :)_

 _Thank you for reading!_

* * *

 **SEVENTY-FIVE**

I'm not really sure how we got to the bed, but I'm rather sure Max had something to do with it. He had a tendency to move me around. Sometimes so discreetly that I almost didn't notice.

I pulled the duvet up over my bare upper body, looking up at the dark ceiling, waiting for Max while he 'took care of something'. The glow from him locking the door with his 'password' flickered against the dark ceiling and I instantly felt safer.

As if he was locking us up in our private bubble.

Neither of us had broached the subject of me pulling back earlier. I had initiated the kiss, it had quickly turned passionate and naturally deepened. But it was as if I could _visualize_ the iron walls around my mind shaking against his love for me and my love for him. Not wanting to stay up. Wanting to crumble. Even if iron wasn't supposed to be able to crumble.

But in our case, I wasn't so sure.

Not ready to find out what that would mean, I had pulled back, interrupted the kiss. We had stared at each other with strained breaths circling us, but he had understood why I'd done what I'd done. Especially since we had just discussed my fears about reconnecting my mind to his again.

That's when I had weakened in his arms, tired from all the emotions, exhausted from holding back and not letting him love me. Not letting me fully feel him. That's when I had momentarily lost track of where I was and where my journey to the bed had bypassed my consciousness.

He was basically _running_ back to the bed and my old self would have laughed at that, but the version of me that was worse for wear didn't really know how to react to that scene.

Pulling the duvet back, he crawled into bed next to me, positioning him on his back before he gently pulled on my right arm to drape my body across his chest.

"I forgot to tell you something earlier," Max started and my mind corrected him _There was not really a good opportunity to tell me earlier_ , knowing I had been basically catatonic by the time he had removed me from that bathroom.

I wiggled around a bit to make myself comfortable in his arms. He hovered his right arm in the air above my back, to give me space to move (maybe he was even afraid that I might roll away again, and he was giving me the opportunity to do so if I wanted), but next placed it gently in the middle of my back, between my shoulder blades, as I breathed a sigh of contentment and let my body melt against his.

"Really?" I questioned, yawning and closing my eyes.

"Today is Christmas."

I didn't know how to react to that.

"I know it's not the best Christmas," Max said when I said nothing.

"But at least it's not in there," I filled in quietly, referring to our separate prisons.

"Yeah," Max replied somberly and let out a sigh. "But I had pictured our first Christmas together a bit differently."

Max Evans: With the power to surprise me.

I lifted my head and looked up at him. "You've pictured our Christmas together?"

There was incredible warmth in his eyes. "Yeah. Amongst other things."

My interest was piqued. "What other things have you pictured?"

"Our first home. Our wedding. Our children."

I swallowed back my tears. Not necessarily tears of sadness - even though his answer had a bittersweet touch - but rather his words had touched something deep inside of me. Something tightly entwined with hope. With future. With the tentative possibility of even having a future.

It told me that Max still believed. He still believed we could have a normal life. A future after this. That we would not only survive, but live.

My voice sounded more affected in its wobbliness than I wanted it to, as I choked, "I didn't know you were such a girl, Evans."

He narrowed his eyes at me and I could tell that he was trying to look offended. But there was too much play from a smile in the corners of his mouth. "What? A guy can't visualize a future with a girl?"

"Sure he can," I said lightly. "But I would have figured you would picture that new car, that impressive house, that motorcycle on the side..."

"Hm," he said thoughtfully and pursed his lips. "I didn't think of that."

I smiled softly at this, but I could feel the honesty that smile lacked. To cover up my lack of emotion, I pressed a kiss to the underside of his left pectoral.

He held his breath as I did, but slowly resumed his breathing pattern as I placed my cheek back on his chest and closed my eyes. His fingers brushed lightly down and up the length of my spine, spreading goosebumps over my skin.

Silent seconds ticked by, but even if it was still in the middle of the night, neither of us fell asleep. Our awake state was a lot more tempting than sleep.

"Do you really think we'll have children?" I asked quietly, almost afraid to ask. But it had seemed okay, somehow, considering that _he_ had been the one to bring it up.

"Yes," he said clearly without hesitation.

I licked my dry lips. "What about my mom? She couldn't have any children with the Sergeant. She was a gaea. So am I. And he was an alien. Like you."

"If you want children, we're gonna have children," Max stated.

I looked up at him, needing to know if his eyes were as honest and serious as his statement. My eyes roamed his face and here was no question; he was being serious. He would make it happen. Even if it wasn't biologically possible.

But something told me that it was biologically possible. Otherwise the Sergeant wouldn't have tried so hard.

I swallowed and quickly pushed away the images that wanted to rush through my head at how Steven Carter had 'done his best' to produce a child, and dragged myself up the length of Max's upper body.

He gave me a soft smile as I came closer, "Hey."

"Hey," I whispered back and kissed him, squeezing my hands between the pillow and the back of his neck, palming the thick hair at the back of his head.

"Now?" he mumbled against my lips as I pulled back slightly to catch my breath.

"What?" I questioned, my lips brushing his with the word.

"You want a child now?"

The laughter bubbled up in my chest, cascading warmth out to my whole body, while it moved in musical tones over my lips.

Max's eyes shone brightly as he added, "Because I think we should wait a little bit. We're only sixteen, you know. I don't think I can handle all those diapers and the vomit-"

"Shut up," I laughed and captured his lips again.

The happiness felt foreign. Almost undeserved. As if I wasn't allowed to laugh after everything that had happened to me. But I couldn't stop. It kept trickling out between kisses and I could feel Max's mouth turn into a smile as the sound continued.

Rolling us over, my laughter turned into breathy exhausted occasional giggles as he leaned over me and kissed down my neck.

"No babies," I warned, as he kissed along my collarbone, his thumb brushing over my nipple.

Max looked up at me and rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one that lacks stamina in this relationship."

I bit my lips together as heat crept up my cheeks. "What does that have to do with making babies?"

Max grinned at me knowingly. "I'm just saying; I'm much better at controlling myself than you are."

I huffed, offended. "So not."

He raised a questioning eyebrow before brushing his hand down the side of my abdomen, making me moan softly with the caress.

Before he could say anything, I mumbled (with my eyes still closed), "Not fair."

It felt wonderful to focus on other senses than my eyesight as I kept my eyes closed and felt him move slowly up my body. His hands lightly caressed along my sides, his thumbs brushing simultaneously over my breasts, before curling up over my shoulders, while he covered my body with his, making sure to not put his whole weight on me, hovering slightly above me.

He placed a light kiss on my bottom lip, before tugging it between his teeth. I pressed the inside of my legs against his hips, my whole body longing to respond to him.

"Promise me something," he requested softly, breathing against my mouth.

I kept my eyes closed. "Yes?"

"Tomorrow, we'll eat something."

I opened my eyes and smiled shyly at him. "Will you make me pancakes?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Then I'll eat."

He brushed at the hair on my forehead, whispering with deep feeling, "Thank you."

A shiver went through me, making the small smile on his face falter as he searched my eyes, but before he had a chance to ask, I whispered, "I'm ready."

He looked uncertain all of the sudden, his body tensing against mine. "Ready?"

I hadn't really thought about it. I was just following my instinct. My instinct to keep Max close. My instinct that told me that Max and our love was what would save us.

"To let you in," I answered, my voice shaking.

"Let me..." he repeated, confused and probably wondering if I was talking about sex or the connection.

"But I can't get the walls down," I admitted, embarrassed.

I seemed to be a natural at building walls, at creating blocks. But Max had always been the one to take them down.

His body relaxed against mine and he put a light kiss on the tip of my nose. "I can help with that."

The shakes in my voice had bled out into the rest of my body and I was trembling with not only nervousness but mostly fear.

"Shh," he hushed, placing small brief kisses on my lips, while his hands cradled my face, his lips brushing at my tears of fear.

I inhaled deeply, hating that I was crying. Again. Quietly, I admitted, "I'm so scared."

"You _know_ me," Max whispered back, not wanting me to be afraid of his mind, of his thoughts and feelings.

"Yes," I replied, took another deep breath and exhaled slowly through my mouth. "But I also know our tormentors and what they are capable of. I'm not sure I'm ready to see what they have done to you."

He caught my eyes and said, "I won't give it all to you at once, okay? But I think, in the end, we need to honest. To be our strongest. To be fully connected."

I considered this. He would filter it to me. One piece at the time. For now, that sounded okay. And I guess I could always ask him to do otherwise later. I knew he could. I knew how strong and capable his mind was.

I nodded. "Go for it."

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "The tasks you give me, Ms. Parker."

I returned his smile, before lifting my face up to his and catching his lips. His kisses warmed me from the outside and in. His breathless breaths breathed life into my cold body. His warm body moved sinfully slow along mine, enticing my skin, making me tingle and heat.

The walls didn't slam down the same way they had slammed up. They slowly disintegrated. I could basically feel them falling apart in my mind as Max's mind reached out for mine.

Then we were connected. I inhaled deeply, a gasp ripped from the bottom of my toes, my back arching as his love hit me full force.

In that moment, I couldn't understand or see what I had been fearing. Because there was nothing but love swirling in the connection. Soul pinching, heart blazing, unconditional love.

"Don't have an orgasm on me now, Parker," Max mumbled against my lips, bringing me back to reality with a short laugh.

"Ha. ha."

But the funniest part was that he might be right. I could feel the pleasure spreading out through my whole body. The all-consuming relief of being loved. Of belonging. Of bathing in warmth. Of knowing no darkness, feeling no fear, no insecurities.

I wondered if the sensations would last forever, because then I wouldn't be having any nightmares anymore. Ever again.

But intellectually, I knew the this was only the connecting. This was the overwhelming phase of feeling everything at once. Later, your mind and body would adjust and it would simmer down.

Because I doubted any human being - or alien, for that matter - could function in this state for very long.

"We would just remain in bed and _feel_ ," Max filled in and I smiled at the knowledge of him hearing my thoughts again. "Like two dopes."

"Mmm," I agreed, liking that thought a lot. "I would love to be a dope with you."

"Making babies," Max whispered.

"Making babies," I repeated. I swallowed, but wasn't prepared for him to hear my concerns before I had realized them myself. "About that-"

He put his finger to my mouth, smiled at me gently and rolled off me. "I heard you."

I was not there yet. Max's touches were amazing, gave me a calmness I couldn't find anywhere else. But the memory of Sean's hands were still too clear in my mind. And now very clear in Max's.

I heard his sharp inhalation next to me and the first trail of fear hit me. This is how it began. This is what I feared would happen. Instinctually, I felt myself start do drift. Already starting to visualize for the walls to come back up around my mind.

Then Max was in my field of vision, looking at me heatedly. "Oh no, you don't."

"I don't want you to see it," I broke. "It's humiliating."

"You did _nothing_ wrong, you hear me?" he said forcefully with anger. But the anger was not directed at me. Instead he was kinda miffed that Sean was already dead; the things he would do to him otherwise...

His thoughts brought forward another point of deep anxiety in me. That I had killed someone. That I had killed _two_ individuals. Robbed them of their lives.

"Show me what happened," Max requested quietly but not lacking in fierce determination. As if he was searching for some specific information and wanted it to be confirmed.

I swallowed, closed my eyes, and focused on the memory. My heart instinctively resisted it. Not just because of what I had done to Sean and the Sergeant, but because it had happened as Max had been bleeding out in front of me. Now his pale, dying face, was all my inner eye could see.

Max's hand against my cheek was soft and gentle, making tears run down my cheeks at the contact. His voice was equally soft as he begged me to, "Focus, Lizzie. I'm okay. You know I'm okay. Concentrate on what happened with Sean and Sarge."

My body was trembling from exertion as I forced my mind away from the terrifying image of Max lying in his own pool of blood on a cold concrete floor. Instead I focused on the incidents _surrounding_ the attack on Max.

I replayed the memory in my head; feeling the hand on my shoulder, the fear that had instantly spiked in me, the sucking sensation that had barreled through me and how I had turned around to see the two tyrants flying through the air.

"The connection," Max whispered, his statement teasing my eyes open.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"It was the connection. Not you."

I frowned, searching the consolation in his eyes that was meant to soothe me. "What do you mean?"

"The connection is protecting us," Max filled in. "You were exposed, extremely vulnerable with me...disabled."

I chewed my bottom lip, wiping the most recent tears off my face with my trembling hand. "But how-"

"Look at the connection as a bubble. It's wrapped around us, protecting us. Brought forward by our feelings and the situation. It probably became defensive because we were failing it, losing our grip on it. So it reacted to any outside possible threat any way it could-"

"By repelling them..." I said slowly.

He nodded. "While we were incapacitated, it pulled on our energies and attacked whatever _we_ considered a threat."

I bit my bottom lip. "But that would still make it my fault. Because _I_ had decided that they were dangerous and the bond responded to that."

"They _were_ dangerous," Max whispered, pressing his thumb into the softness of my cheek while his eyes grew softer. "We might still be in there if the bond hadn't done what it did." He paused and I opened my mouth to object when he beat me to it, "You never gave it conscious permission to do that. You never actively released that energy." He scoffed. "Hell, maybe it was me. Those minutes are a bit fuzzy to me, but it wouldn't surprise me if I helped to initiate the release. I _must have_ at least fueled the feeling that they were a threat, prompting the defensive reaction."

It made sense and I desperately wanted to believe it. The suffocating guilt inside of me wanted to be released. But I didn't want excuses to explain something I should be held accountable for if I wasn't completely sure that the explanation was valid.

Annoyance crinkled his eyebrows and his eyes turned stern. "I'm sure, okay? Let it go. It might have been a more advanced and definite method of self-defense than what you would ever had imagined, but that was what it was: _self-defense_."

He could sense that I was still not convinced and added, "They would have killed you without batting an eye. They were planning to use you as a slave. To take away your free will. To force you into things you didn't want. For a lifetime. They would gladly use you for as long as you were capable and wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt over it. Because they had no conscience. They were heartless, Lizzie. You have to see that. You can't feel bad for doing the world a favor."

"They're your people," I whispered, barely audible. But it was a weak protest. His words were affecting me. I knew that what he was saying was true, even though I would rather never have had someone's death on my conscience, no matter what the reason. "There's not that many of you and I killed two of them."

" _The connection_ killed two of them. And if it hadn't, _I_ would have. Even in my condition." His lips were tight as he added, "And they probably would have died in the rebellion sooner or later anyway. Our bond just made it easier for the resistance, considering that two of the strongest members of the opposition are now dead."

I considered this and came to think of something that had irked me since it had happened. "Why would the Sergeant take Sean with him to visit us that day? I'm sure that he knew, just as well as we did, that Sean was unstable. Considering what he tried to do to you at the meeting. Also, I obviously scared him the last time we met. So why expose himself to that risk?"

Max's eyes flickered over mine, his mind silent across the connection, as he replied, "The military uses a high frequency sound, higher than the level of ultrasound, to disturb alien powers. That's what they were using to weaken me. The sound is applied to a room or an area. It can also be directed at the individual, but they found this inefficient in my case considering that I was moving around within the room and they would have to repeatedly 'shoot' me with the sound for it to keep on functioning. So, even if affecting _only me_ with the incapacitating sound would be convenient, it was more efficient to 'treat' the whole room and, of course, this would then affect any other alien that walked into the room."

I frowned curiously at his explanation. "You knew about this... That's what you were thinking about when they arrived with a gun. That's why you knew they would be without powers as well."

Max nodded. "I've heard of it being used. But never experienced it first hand before. We haven't really had any wars on Earth, so it's never been widely used, but I assume that a local burst of disruptive sound - delivered through a weapon - would be the best one to use in a battle instead of what was used on me in that room."

"So why Sean? Why was he there? And why wasn't there anyone else there? No one stopped me when I left the room to get help."

Max took a deep slow breath before continuing, "Bringing Sean along was not part of the plan, according to my dad. But I think you really freaked the Sergeant out. Or maybe he had finally started to realize what we are capable of. Anyway, even with a gun, Sarge probably felt defenseless and there's safety in numbers, right?" There was a bitter sound to his suggestion before he added, "And I'm pretty sure that no one authorized Sean to be armed. He must have grabbed that knife on his way over or something."

I shivered in the silence of the night and Max pulled on the duvet to tuck it tightly around us, draping my body across his, his arm pressing into my back transmitting warmth and comfort.

"A small part of the rebellion, lead by Dresden, happened to invade the Institute around the time Sean and Sarge stepped into our room. The confrontation between his men and you and I was supposed to have been watched by Command himself, but as he was informed of the invasion, he fled. Maybe because his best military men were in our room, not by his side. It's still doesn't really make sense. I'm not so sure he actually _was_ there. It doesn't sound like Command would _flee_."

"Your dad?" I whispered. "Where was your dad? He must have been close by..."

"No one was informed that you were to be transported. It was all very secret. Dad suspects that Command had already started to speculate at the time that his government might be infiltrated with dissident members, working for the rebellion. So Command moved you himself."

"And then made a desperate attempt at forming an allegiance with you and me?" I asked incredulously.

Max nodded somberly. "Something like that. There was no more time to try and break us. The rebellion was moving in and we've proved more successful than I think Command had anticipated."

A short joyless laugh left me. "Was he really that stupid? Command? Did he really think that we would join his side after everything they had done to us?"

"Not voluntarily. But they could always try and force us."

I shook my head at their stupidity. At their desperation.

Powerful men grasping at straws.

"Obviously only Command was strong enough to control us, and even _he_ failed to break the connection. How in the world were they planning to get us to do their dirty work?"

Max dropped his eyes, the whisper of panic momentarily forgotten moving from him to me across the bond. "I hope I'll never find out. I'm sure his methods wouldn't be pleasant."

"All is fair in love and war, huh?" I whispered, my voice empty. I was thinking of the fate we had dodged. Of how much more badly it could have gotten at the hands of Command and his people.

Max nodded and moved slightly beneath me, clearing his throat. "Dad was close by. He was part of the invasion against the Institute-"

"He was rescuing you," I realized slowly.

"And you," Max filled in, searching my eyes. "That's why he was not at the Institute when you called him. They were trying to orchestrate a simultaneous rescue of both of us. It was too risky to try to save us at different times. They might have killed the one still in captivity, to prevent the rebellion from acquiring their whole 'weapon'."

"So we're a weapon?" I asked, feeling objectified on more than one level.

He tried to muster up a smile for me and placed a kiss on my forehead. "It's only a word. _We_ know what we are, and that's the most important part. _They_ have to be strategic. _They_ have to win this war for the chance of our society becoming a better one. So right now, we _are_ considered a weapon. Their only defense against Command."

The responsibility of that, the risks it entailed, fell on my chest like a ton of bricks, bringing back that familiar feeling of not being able to breathe.

"Liz," he said slowly, coaxing my attention to his face, to the fear in his eyes and the concern in the curve of his mouth. "Breathe."

I nodded, really wanting to appease him, but my body not being able to let go. It was closing up on itself as tears ran down my cheeks.

Max was staring so intently at me that my chest grew even tighter with his love and I felt his fingers digging into the skin of my back as he repeated, "Breathe," with barely controlled fear breaking his voice.

I buried my wet face against his chest, pain running through me, as I tried to hold my tears back while it kept hitting me. It was good to have some answers again, but I wasn't prepared for the fear those answers would awaken inside of me. Adding on to everything I had already felt, everything I had already experienced, my tight chest left no room for any breaths.

My crying exploded as Max rolled me onto my back, unable to hide the tremors in his hands. I couldn't see him through my curtain of tears or hear him through my sobs. I could only feel him. Those trembling hands brushing warmly over my chest, pushing energy straight into my heart. Light, healing energy, saturating my chest, my lungs. Filling me not only with oxygen, making it possible for me to breathe again, but also soaking me with a soothing calmness.

My crying softened with the feeling, letting myself sink into the sensation. Allowed it to quiet my toxic thoughts. Max's hands had been replaced by his lips and he was placing soft kisses over the top of my breasts, across the front of my shoulders, up my neck.

"I'll keep you safe," he whispered, tears in his voice. "I promise you, that I'll keep you safe." He pulled back, took my hand and tightly entwined our fingers. "You won't have to do anything you're not prepared for. I'll see to it. _They_ need us, so they'll have to wait. We're in charge. It's on our conditions."

"I can't do this, Max," I whispered. "I'm sorry. I don't think I can do this."

"Shhh," he hushed, brushing my lips, wet from my tears, with his. "There's no pressure, okay? No matter what anyone tries to tell you, there's no pressure. If you decide that you would rather run away, they'll just have to figure this out on their own."

I looked up at him hopefully and whimpered, "Really?"

He smiled at me softly. "Really."


	76. SEVENTY-SIX

_Thank you for reading :)_

* * *

 **SEVENTY-SIX**

Max had created a sanctuary for me. A place to heal. A place to start feeling safe again. To try and forget the shadows lurking behind corners. To regain my belief in the goodness of people - human _and_ alien. He wouldn't admit to arranging it, but I knew he was pulling the strings.

It was right up his alley, being the control freak that he was. Obsessed with protecting not only my life, but also my well-being. I sometimes heard whispers of his plans through the connection, even when he was trying his best to hide them, which strengthened my suspicions to his involvement in my 'care'.

He kept a lot of things hidden from me during that time. I was not to attend any meetings with the rebellion. Max forbid any of the members - except for his father, of course - to see me. He refused to let me be pressured into something before I was ready. He didn't want to even give them the chance to play on my sympathies, to guilt me into taking steps I was not ready for yet.

So he kept them from me, something I was actually very grateful for. That particular part of my current situation still frightened me. Aliens with powers. Aliens who _wanted_ power. I still did not trust them. Even if they were fighting for a freer society, for a more humane society. Where humans were not used and hurt in order to advance their race.

I couldn't ignore the fact that they were still aliens and I had experienced the darkest sides of their race.

Max made sure that my days were filled. I didn't realize it until later why he was doing that. At first, it was exhausting. I was begging him for naps, for some quiet time to read, sleep or just be by myself. We had quite a lot of heated arguments about it, to be honest. But he usually won in the end. I was too tired to fight him. I didn't _want_ to fight with him. After a while I was happy that he hadn't given in just to be nice to me. Or given in just because he could see that I was upset; even pleading with him with tears running down my cheeks.

He had already figured out that with my days filled, I had no chance to think. The preoccupation kept my obsessive thoughts away. It kept my ghosts at bay and hushed the memories. With one activity picking up straight after the other, I never had to be alone, rarely had to be surprised and flinch in momentary fear. Never had to be paralyzed by silence.

Max and I would take long walks together. We were 'hiding out' in a large house that had previously served as a hostel. Which meant that there were a lot of bedrooms, a large kitchen, a common room, a pool table, and several bathrooms. Behind the house was a big garden, with trails that led into the desert. Max had had an argument with his father about our walks as well. Mr. Evans hadn't considered it wise for us to walk off on our own like that, unprotected, and Max had responded by looking at his father like Mr. Evans lacked a suitable number of active brain cells.

We had survived capture at the hands of some cold-hearted vicious aliens, but we wouldn't survive a walk in the desert?

Apparently, Max had won that argument (as well) since we were still taking the walks, talking about everything between heaven and earth while our joined hands swung comfortably between our bodies.

At first, the walks had tired me out quickly. My muscles had atrophied with my banishment from freedom, my lack of food had contributed to an overall weakness, and my breathing easily got heavy and strained. But every day I grew stronger, more in tune with my own body again. It helped to exercise (even if the exercise only consisted of slow walking). The fresh air and the naturally repetitive movement of my body helped me connect my mind to my body.

In the evening, my dad and I played cards or watched movies. Sometimes we would cook together (a secret passion of my father's; the reason he had started up a restaurant) and I would smile behind my father's back as he experimented with ingredients, adding odd spices in weird combinations. Oddly enough, it always turned out tasting really good.

Alex and I would have long talks about our childhood. At first it had been excruciatingly painful to talk about my mom, but (with my permission) Alex had lead me through the emotions, taking off the edge with the magical help of his ability, and gradually I stumbled upon the _need_ to talk about my mom.

I thirsted for whatever stories Alex might have about her. Stories of events that I had never witnessed; instances when Alex had met my mother without me being around. It was amazing to see her through Alex's eyes. Hear the admiration in his voice as he described her and laugh along with him when he retold some clumsy thing that my mom had done. She'd always had a tendency to get herself into the funniest situations.

Later on, I started talking to my dad about mom as well. He needed just as much healing as me, which bled into the conversations making them loaded with grief and anger. Anger about how she had been treated - without our knowledge - and grief about the beautiful person we had lost far too soon. But it felt good to talk about it. Even though we cried a lot, we also laughed a lot.

I'm not so sure that Max had planned for Isabel to bring yoga mats to the house, but that's what she did. At first, she only instructed _me_. I was a bit against it at first, but she told me that yoga would help me focus. Help me connect with myself and ground me to the earth. It would calm me down and give me tools to get out of stressful situations, when my mind might work against me and lock me up in an unwanted thinking pattern.

Like my anxiety attacks.

Hence, I started doing yoga sessions with Isabel. In the beginning, it frustrated me. I would look at Isabel's long legs, her feminine curves and the natural grace to her movements - when she moved from one pose to the next - and I would feel like a clumsy elephant next to her. My joints felt stiff, my back ached... I couldn't even reach my toes.

I cried a lot during those first sessions. I screamed a lot. Every day I told her that I wouldn't do it again. I couldn't understand how yoga could be peaceful. All it did was make me upset.

But Isabel was just as stubborn as her brother. Somehow she got me to continue, and slowly my body started to soften. The fear that was tightening my back, the grief I held in my joints, started to be released. I understood then why it had made me really upset at the beginning. The movements had wanted me to appreciate my body, to _like_ my body. But I wasn't prepared for that. In the self-hating position I had been in, it was hard to get my mind to reroute, to let go.

While I did yoga, Max did push-ups, crunches, pull-ups, jumped up and down off chairs. Usually in the same room. Usually at the same time.

Isabel put up with it for about three days before she exploded on him. He just looked at her calmly as she jumped out of her cross-legged position of 'relaxation' and screamed at him to "Go somewhere else!" and "Can't you see that we are relaxing here?!" and so on.

Max didn't say a word in response. He raised a silent eyebrow at his twin-sister, before throwing me a wink, and left to take a shower.

The next day he sat down on the floor with his phone, scrolling through it while Isabel and I rolled out our yoga mats. But even though he was always looking down at his phone every time I looked over at him, I could feel his eyes caressing my legs and his warm gaze burning on my behind. I could feel the heat through the connection and hear his oh-so-not-pure thoughts in my mind.

Apparently, some yoga poses left very little to the imagination.

It didn't take long before lights were flickering and Isabel was ready to explode (again). She glared angrily at Max, telling him to join or disappear. No ogling of Liz while she was doing yoga.

So he grabbed one of the five yoga mats Isabel had purchased and rolled it out next to me.

I hadn't laughed that much in a very very long time.

Isabel and Max should put on their own show.

Isabel, who had been immensely patient with me through my crying fits and my screaming at the skies, had absolutely no patience for her brother.

While Max groaned and complained, falling over to the left and right as the poses demanded more balance than he possessed, Isabel huffed and puffed, brutally pressing Max's back in this and that direction when he wasn't doing the poses correctly, and frustratedly pulling at her hair when he couldn't get the most basic movements right.

There was absolutely nothing relaxing about that first yoga session with Max. My stomach was hurting from all the laughter while Isabel looked exhausted. At the end of it, Max caught his sister around the waist and pulled the back of her resisting body against his front, and pressed a kiss to her cheek while she cried for him to let her go with loud disgusted sounds.

All through it, I let the connection vibrate between Max and I. I let his feelings - the good and the bad - wash over me and fuel my feelings of normalcy.

At night, Max and I slept very tightly entangled with each other. At first, Max had let me be, limiting his touches to kisses, and no kissing below my shoulders. I could feel the desire burn through him, but the longing to feel truly connected to me was possibly even stronger. To connect on a deeply emotional level.

We were already working towards that level of emotional connection, but we were both acutely aware that the deepest level of our connection was only reached through sex.

I couldn't hide my own desires from him, and I didn't want to. I knew that it was important that he felt needed too.

Loving him, _needing_ him was not the problem. My body wanted him on a very fundamental and primal level. But my mind wasn't ready. My mind still associated intimate touches with acts of assault. Of violence. With humiliation and shame.

But with every passing night, Max took it one step further. We both knew that there was a risk that I might stay afraid forever and neither one of us wanted that. So even if it was terrifying, I let him slowly take control of the situation. I put my fear into his hands. Just like I had willingly trusted him with my life not too long ago.

He would gradually move over my body. Touching my neck (where the memory of Sean's fingers were imprinted) one night and my breasts (which Sean had squeezed roughly and coldly) the next.

Max would brush his hands very lightly over the previously abused areas and use his healing abilities to infuse heat into the skin, trying to transform the phantom memory from coldness into warmth. Gradually, to my surprise, I felt it working. I felt the chill ease. I stopped flinching when he would come too close to those areas.

Of course, the reaction wasn't gone when Isabel would accidentally touch my neck during a yoga pose, making me jump, or when my dad had hugged me from the behind one time, his arm squeezing into my middle, spreading confining feelings of anxiety and fear into me.

With Max, in the darkness of our bedroom, I was prepared. I was expecting it. It was still a long way to go before I would stop reacting to it when startled outside of our nightly private cocoon.

The connection made us share memories. Made us see the torture our lover had gone through. We cried through the torture. Together. Max promised death to just about anyone that had ever laid a finger on me and with the memories of our nightmares haunting me throughout the days, I would chew my nails to the pulp to stop myself from screaming at the pain they had put Max through.

The nightmares weren't gone. Instead we shared them. Our nightmares blended together and we usually found ourselves fighting the evils of our dreams together. Which made it easier. It was still frightening to watch my mother in a pool of blood in a white bathroom, but it was much easier when Max was there, holding my hand, suggesting that I could take the opportunity to talk to my mother instead. To soothe her pain. Because even if it wasn't real and I wasn't really there with my mom, it would give me some peace of mind to feel that I had been able to do something. Not just passively watch while she writhed in pain.

When Command would give Max visions of a catatonic version of me, tied to a chair, with bleeding wounds all over my naked body, covering the paleness of my skin in dark red, and Sean would slowly drag the edge of a knife up the inside of my thigh, I would find blankets to cover up the dream version of me and push Sean away from dream-me and into Max's angry arms.

In our dreams, in our nightmares, we were a team. They left us exhausted, cried out and shaking, but we grew stronger with every one of them.

My loved ones would still occasionally find me locked in the bathroom, hiding from the world, trembling with fears. Max would be notified, ignore my lock of the door, and carry me out of there.

He always succeeded in bringing me back from that dark place. It went better and better with each time and eventually I stopped feeling the need to run into the bathroom to hide.

When I had started to get something of a routine in my current living situation, I finally got my period. I hadn't taken any notice of its absence until I was hit with its reminding presence, but I was pretty sure it was way overdue. One could blame it on the stress placed on my body (not eating, the fear, the torture) being responsible for postponing that normal regular incident. But I had a feeling it might have been the connection holding it back. I couldn't really figure out why it would do so, but I was glad that my period had stayed away during my captivity. When I hadn't had any access to getting clean. When I had already been feeling horrible.

I didn't dare to consider all the different ways Sean would have used it to degrade me. Making me feel even dirtier and unclean by refusing me sanitary products and showers.

Max had become aware of the reoccurrence of the less pleasant part of my monthly cycle before I had. We had been asleep, it being in the middle of the night, as he had been woken up by a dull ache in the lower part of his abdomen. He had traced the pain to me and before I was even awake, he had scanned my body and found the root of the 'problem'.

Even though he had been gentle in his approach to my body, I had awoken with a start (my nerves still too easily triggered) when he had pushed his hands underneath my bare form and lifted me off the mattress. My abrupt shove into wakefulness had made me instantly aware of that familiar feeling of the repetitive contractions of my uterus.

The sudden embarrassment and mortification had made me painfully wide-awake, because I had already been made aware of the wetness between my legs which immediately had made me wonder if I had bled all over the bed.

It was funny, really. Max had seen every inch of me. His lips had tasted every detail of my body. His fingers had touched me everywhere. But the idea of me bleeding in the same bed as him - bleeding menstrual blood - fueled me with deep mortification.

I had begged him to put me down, afraid that I would get blood on the arm he had in the crook of my knees. Instead his grip on me had tightened and he had told me something along the lines of how I shouldn't ever have to be in pain, while he had grabbed a blanket off the base of the bed and used it to cover up my half-naked body (I had only been wearing panties. _White_ panties, of course).

He had carried me out of the room, out into the dark hallway, and into one of the bathrooms that had a bathtub. He had positioned me on the toilet seat, wrapped in the blanket (I had been careful to not sit directly on the blanket in case I bled all over it), while he drew me a bath. I had begged him to leave. He was well-aware of my embarrassment at that point and had (to my flushed indignation) pushed his hand through the opening of the blanket at the front of my abdomen, pressed his warm hand against the lower part of my abdomen and removed my cramps within two seconds, before he had put a light kiss to my lips with a whispered "I love you" before leaving me as I had requested.

I never found out if I had bled on the sheets. When I had returned, sanitary product in place, feeling refreshed and free of pain, the sheets had had a fresh and clean smell, and Max had beckoned me into his arms with a soft half-smile. Like so many nights before, he had curled up around my back and found my hand in front of my chest. But on that night, he had placed our hands against my lower abdomen. And throughout the night, before I had a chance to recognize the cramping starting up again, Max had sent calming energy into my uterus, giving me one of the most pain free period nights of my life.

Max was making it easy for me to forget the outside world. To forget that we still had to fight. That Command was on the loose. That Max and I needed to work on our connection.

The only time it shone through was when Mr. Evans came by. It was easy to see his impatience with the situation when he saw me in child's pose on a yoga mat and Max trying to do the same on his own mat.

But he let us be.

Diane would come by every day and cook for us. It was almost like I was part of a big family. Max, Alex, my dad, Isabel, Diane, Mr. Evans and I. The only one missing was Maria.

I thought about her a lot. Wondered what she was doing. Wondered what she was thinking. I wondered how they were managing to cover up how not just me, but all of the people surrounding me, were 'missing'. I hadn't had the energy to ask anyone about it yet, afraid that I wouldn't like the reason and hence immediately want to see Maria. Afraid that by doing so, I would jeopardize not only my own life but Maria's and everyone else's as well.

We had to stay hidden.

Nevertheless, even if Max's plan was to keep us hidden until I was strong enough to face the world - face the evil aliens - time was biting at our heels. Our time in our cocoon consisting of a makeshift family was running out and we were all very aware of it.

Even Max couldn't hide this from me.


	77. SEVENTY-SEVEN

_Child of Music and Dreams - *laughs* Yeah, it sure would be handy to have a boyfriend like Max. In more ways than one ;-) Thank you for your feedback!_

* * *

 **SEVENTY-SEVEN**

I saw it through Max's eyes, through his memories. I felt it through his body as if it was a part of me. The kicks, the beatings, the coldness, the electric shocks, the fire. They had done everything possible to break him. While I had been subjected to Sean and his father - two taunting aliens with a short temper - Max had usually been subjected to Command.

Apparently, Command didn't mind getting his hands dirty.

Or maybe it was just that no other alien could handle Max.

Because even when it was excruciating - even when blood blurred his vision, attacks with energy almost stopped his heart (over and over again), and his skin was ripped open with an order from Command's ruthless mind - Max kept on fighting. His inclination to be sarcastic mocking towards his assailer _did_ diminish as his body desperately wanted to surrender, but his mind never gave in.

Just like with me, they assigned the bulk of the blows to his psyche. After analyzing his responses to various mental stressors, they had reached the conclusion that anything concerning me would deeply upset him.

Hence, his love for me became their greatest weapon.

But it also became their biggest miscalculation.

Because the more insinuations they made about my condition at their hands - the more scenarios they painted of me being injured and tormented - the stronger Max's determination to get to me grew. The more focused he was to get through the torture. The more tenacious he was to not give up or give in. If he gave up, I was lost. Maybe forever. Without him, without the connection, I wouldn't be able to protect myself.

As I shared the memories of his experiences I wondered how he had managed to not go insane. As Command calmly stood in front of him and I felt my lip throb with Max's pain, the unhealed open wound on the back of my thigh burn, and my inability to breathe deeply due to a number of broken ribs. I felt Max's fear of what was to come while simultaneously feeling strong. Almost as if I - _he_ \- wanted Command to 'bring it on'. To prove that not even the leader of their society, the strongest member of their civilization on Earth, could break him.

By then Command had changed tactics. He had incorporated visions into his torture of Max. Command had constructed them with cold precision, making them frighteningly realistic, practically impossible to set apart from real experiences and perceived memories.

Through Max's nightmare I got the full HD-experience of Command's cruel imagination.

 _Me - writhing and screaming in pain after an argument with Sean, where I had refused to obey._

 _Me - being slowly burnt by short energy bursts, screaming, in direct response to Max refusing to break the bond._

 _Me - in a near catatonic state, lying lifelessly on a bed, while Sean continuously pulled energy from me._

The messages of the visions were clear: submit or Liz gets hurt.

And if Max and I were somehow communicating through the connection: make Liz understand that she has to give in, or she'll be far worse off in their 'care'.

 _Me - falling to my knees, my head clenched between my hands, before completely collapsing on the ground, my eyes staring lifelessly in front of me as death claimed me._

Max and I had started to learn how to take control of our nightmares, to make them ours, to overcome them. But this one - his nightmare of seeing me dead - left me paralyzed. Max's fear and panic, his guilt and remorse (over having ever laid a hand on me and thus having contributed to putting me in this position) was deafening. His helplessness over the situation, his loss of control and lack of power had made him scream. Had made him attempt to pull his mangled body towards Command with the intention of killing him. Even with the odds stacked against him.

He had been crying in the harrowing replay of his memory and was still crying as his terror ripped both of us out of the shared nightmare.

My heart was beating violently against the inside of my ribcage and my body was covered in sweat as my eyes flew open.

With my breathing harsh in my ears, mingling with his strained intakes of air, I shifted frightened eyes towards his hunched over back, the connection vibrating with an overload of emotions.

With a shaking hand, I touched the glistening skin of his back, touching the tips of my fingers to the muscles covering his shoulder blades.

He jolted at my touch, but didn't look back at me to verify that it was me. He knew where he was. He knew that he was back in bed. With me.

It didn't make the nightmare any less real though.

The adrenaline coursing through me was making my body feel like jelly and I struggled to pull myself up into seated position. His poorly restrained sobs, hitching at the top of his sharp inhalations, echoed eerily off the walls of our small room.

Heat was coming off his body in waves and I immersed myself in it as I pressed my breasts against his back, hugging the insides of my thighs to the outsides of his hips while wrapping my arms around his upper body and resting my cheek on the trembling area just between his shoulder blades.

I could feel his heart beat strongly, with panicky agitation, against my left hand as I gently molded my palms to his chest. Pushing up slightly, tears running down my feverish cheeks, I said gently into his ear, "Breathe."

A shudder moved through him, making his breathing halt, as he lifted his hands to wrap them around mine.

"Breathe," I repeated, my voice suffused with love, fear and tears.

His next breath was a heart-wrenching sob and my tears slid down his sweaty back as I pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, my arms loosening around him. To give him space. Space to breathe.

Images of me - of me laughing, of me crying, of me dancing with Maria and goofing around with Alex, of me being upset, of me hugging my father - were drenching the connection. Every emotion I might have ever experienced seemed to be stored in Max's memories. Documented from him watching me. For a much longer time than I had ever realized. The image of my face was so loud across our bond that it obliterated anything else and made my chest want to explode with undefinable feelings, so strong that I lost my own breath and started to float backwards away from him with the sudden weakness to my body.

But he stopped me, his fingers tightening around my damp hands, and his voice was breaking as he croaked, "Stay with me."

I bit my bottom lip as the sadness enveloped me and I started crying in earnest, large tears cascading down my cheeks as I pressed myself back up against him and whispered, "Always."

It was as if my heart couldn't handle the love he was sending me, instead spilling over out into my fingertips, making them tingle almost painfully.

I loved him so much. The clichéd phrase 'love you so much it hurts' took on a whole new meaning as I was faced with not knowing how to handle what I felt for him and the bottomless love he felt for me. On top of that, the knowledge of those 'people' having used that beautiful and pure love against us was forcing to break me apart at the seams.

While floating in the sea of our feelings, I had unconsciously been kissing his back, placing soft salty kisses along the curves of his shoulder blades, down the straight line of his spine, up over his tense shoulders and brushing the pointed ends of his collarbones.

It was not until he turned in the circle of my arms that I realized I had been doing it. That I had been trying to get the love out of me (to prevent myself from disintegrating from the inside out) through the adoration of his skin.

I glimpsed the pain in his expressive eyes before he melted our lips together, my body sighing in soft surrender against his. I threaded my fingers through his hair, feeling the dampness of his distress against his scalp, while the moisture of his tears brushed my nose as I changed the angle of his kisses.

He was gentle, tender, and slow. Feeling every detail of my lips, drowning in the sensations as he memorized the softness of my lips. His hands were everywhere; brushing up my arms, over my shoulders, down over my breasts, up along my spine. The touch was fleeting, with barely any pressure, but the heat from his fingertips was enough to set my body on fire.

I gasped with the realization, pulled back, and looked down at his hands. My eyes verified what I had already suspected. The glow. It was back. Following Max's fingers like a beautiful sensual flame.

With my head bent and my mouth open in reverence, he started kissing my neck instead, and we made the mutual silent decision to move to a horizontal position. The mattress was soft against my bare back as Max lowered me down, his mouth moving back to mine, his kissing ignited with the passion from the glow shining in random trails across my body.

I moaned and dragged my fingers down the back of his upper body, my fingers pressing into his taut muscles, seeking the closeness only his body could bring me.

It was I who pulled his boxers down, causing his body to freeze and his eyes to search my face.

It was I who removed my own panties, leaving our bodies completely naked and intimately close.

It was only I who could make that decision and take that step.

Max had left it up to me, considering the scars Sean had made in my mind. Considering the invisible scars he had made on my body.

But there was no longer any question about me being 'ready', or that this was something called for by the desperation of the situation. It was not even necessarily a response to the overload of our emotions or the need for comfort to drown our traumatizing memories.

It was just meant to be. Max and I were not meant to be separated. We were meant to be connected in every way possible. Both mentally and physically. I had a feeling that the glow itself was pointing to us being open again, to us being accessible to our love and the expression of it.

He slowly rolled onto his back, bringing me with him, changing our positions. I let myself sink into my feelings for him and allowed myself to fully let him in. Something that had been difficult for me to do since what had happened during the days in captivity.

His gratitude about me submitting to the power of the connection was indescribable. It exploded out through my body, lit up my mind, and heated my soul. I felt his every emotion as I moved my hands over his body, slid my lips across his skin, and threaded my fingers through his hair.

I could feel him resigning control of his body to me, handing it over without needing to ask. Which was in sharp contrast to his resistance to letting me take charge when we had made love at the house in Hondo (which felt like forever ago).

This time I didn't even have to ask.

Images of me were still playing in his mind and naturally overriding the fake visions Command's sick 'imagination' had come up with as Max let my touches calm his breaths and slow down his heart.

I was drawing on his abdomen, amazed by the glow that followed my finger like a warm tail, adoring every hill and dip of the lines of his muscles. They were even more defined now, with the absence of almost any fatty tissue combined with the relentlessness he put into exercise.

Beneath the weight of my soft body was the warm and breathing body of a warrior. The body of a protector. But surrounding all that hardness, the tough and well-chiseled exterior, was only heat. Heat from love. Heat from passion.

The heat was building. The passion was overwhelming. The love was exploding. Just as his body had been calmed down into my acceptance of our connection, it was slowly building us back up into wild heartbeats and breathy gasps as the natural physical desire between us began to dominate.

I had already giving him the green light by removing our underwear. Still, his hesitancy over my decision was clear. It would destroy him if us having sex would awaken memories of Sean and his treatment of me. The calmness in my mind, the willingness of my body, convinced him to go with his heart. To tune into our bodies and let them connect.

I didn't think it was possible for Max to be any gentler or softer than the first time we had made love. But he was. It was a different type of softness this time. While last time had been about making me feel comfortable with my own nudity in front of him, about him touching me, about him loving me, this time his gentleness stemmed from him erasing unwanted touches and terrifying memories. He would never use any _alien_ methods of erasing on me (not after that one time), rather he simply relied on the love through the connection, on making me feel desirable and cherished.

Still, there was nothing careful about our bodies coming together. We sank into each other on instinct, driven by not only a primal lust, but mostly a need to bind us together.

He was interlacing our fingers, flushing our sweaty palms together, as he moved inside of me. His breath was hot against my face, against my mouth, as he placed occasionally kisses on my mouth, on my cheeks, brushing against the droplets of perspiration on my forehead, while I was acutely aware of the hairs on his legs as they brushed against my inner thighs.

My whimpers arched my chest up against his, pushing our bodies together, over and over again. My hands were tugging at the hair at the base of his neck, my toes restlessly caressing the sides of his shins as I sought out his mouth, felt his tongue dance against mine and the power coil and swirl inside my being.

The ultimate feeling of pleasure curled up inside the center of my body, my feet pressed into the outsides of his hips and our lips separated as my head fell backwards with the hoarse cry of his name tumbling from my lips.

I almost expected us to be levitating by then. I probably wouldn't have been very surprised if we had been. I felt light as a feather, enveloped in warmth with soft tingles making my soul prickle with unconditional love.

It took me a while to return to reality. To feel the solidity of the bed against my back. To feel the perspiration on my skin, to feel his weight on top of me and to realize that he was motionless, watching me as I opened my eyes.

"You're amazing," he whispered, his eyes spilling everything that was throbbing through the connection.

A smile lit my face and I asked breathlessly, "What? No jab at my stamina?"

His eyes twinkled with his own smile and he moved every so slightly against me - inside of me - causing my breathing to pause with a gasp.

"I have no complaints," he said and leaned down to kiss me deeply.

I melted into his kiss, my body igniting with restored energy and my body signaled for him to start moving again. But as he did, something from the deepest corners of my rationality hit me and I tensed.

He immediately mimicked my tension, my screaming thoughts impossible to miss.

 _Protection_.

He cautiously lowered himself from his elbows and down to flush my body against his with a restrained breath.

He knew that I was not panicking about the need for physical protection, which had - to be honest - been at the front of our minds lately. But rather I was starting to panic about the absence of protection against a pregnancy. A pregnancy at 16. In the middle of a rebellion. With our lives at stake.

Our eyes locked and he placed a slow kiss on my lips. "It's okay. I haven't-"

But it still didn't comfort me much. I had heard a thing or two about pre-ejaculation and its possibilities (albeit slim) at creating a child. Even with the unsuccessful attempts the Sergeant had made at making my mother pregnant, something was telling me that it would not be impossible for me to have a child with Max. Almost as if the connection would make it happen, if it 'wanted to'.

My heart was pounding in my chest, cold sweat mingling with the drying sweat of our love on my skin. "But what if-"

There was a concerned twitch to his right eye, his eyes roaming my mind and face, before he pulled back and away from me. I knew from my insight into his thoughts that he had just been worried that I never wanted to have children with him, but that my mind had (unconsciously) quickly abolished that idea. Now he was trying to regain rational thinking instead of being pulled into the emotional one.

"We can't get pregnant," I whispered, sitting up and looking at him as he moved his legs over the edge of the bed and dragged his fingers through his hair.

"I know, Lizzie," he answered softly.

My breathing was slowly returning to normal as I read the guilt in his mind. For not thinking. For not taking control of the situation. For being ruled by his emotions, by his fear of losing me, by his need to make sure that I was there; alive and whole.

I was grasping for my common sense, ignoring the nagging addition of a supernatural bond that could affect what I knew about nature (and might increase the likelihood of a pregnancy), and crawled up to him to wrap my arms around his shoulders and place a kiss against his neck.

"It's not your fault." My voice was muffled against his neck. "I'm sorry. I just got a bit freaked out. Of course nothing has happened. I just-"

"-don't like to lose control," Max filled in, echoing both of our thoughts. How alike we were in many aspects. How much safer we felt when we had a plan; a plan that enabled us to exert control over our lives and our surroundings. How it gave us a sense of security.

"Yeah," I mumbled and tightened my grip on him. "Max..."

"Mmm." He was subdued, deep in his analysis of his own body, trying to figure out if he had let it go too far, if he had jeopardized our future in some way, if he had added another life to our connection.

"That was amazing."

His thoughts stopped, his body stilled for a second before he turned his head and looked over his shoulder at me. "Liz, I-"

"I've missed you so much," I cut him off. He needed to know how much it had meant to me. How much it had meant to me to take that step with him again. To let him back in.

I swallowed, feeling a twinge of nervousness to bring it up. "It was something different this time... You know, when I..."

"I could see it," he said in contemplation and turned around to move back up on the bed. I shifted to make room for him.

He moved up on his knees and looked at me intently. So intently that I found myself flushing.

"I could see it on your face. And I could feel it move through you. As if something was released. As if you let go."

I nodded quietly. "Exactly."

He leaned in, our noses touching, as he added with a soft smile. "And it had nothing to do with some creation of a baby."

I swallowed. "You sure?"

There was nothing but honesty on his face, not a single trace of hesitation. "Yes."

My exhalation was loud and filled with relief. "Okay."

He gently caught my chin between his thumb and index finger, asking, "Are you okay? With everything? With the whole-"

"Sex thing?" I filled in with a shy smile.

His mouth twitched in a smile. "Yeah."

His hand slid away from my chin, spreading goosebumps as it slid down my throat, as I leaned in to kiss him. My lips were still attached to his as I answered, "I'm more than okay."

"Good," he replied. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh?" I smiled, pulling back slightly to be able to look into his eyes. "You're not 'done' with me?"

He laughed softly. "You didn't really think that I would leave you alone after what you just experienced, after what _we_ just experienced?"

The blush heated my cheeks and I slowly shook my head in negative. "I guess not."

He searched my eyes, his face turning introspective and filled with veiled expressions at his hushed confession. "I can't get enough of you. I fear I'm addicted to you, Ms. Parker."

I crawled up on his lap, feeling the effects of what the proximity of that new position did to his body as I replied slowly, "I'm all yours, Evans. All night long." I slowly licked my lips, guiding his gaze towards my mouth. "And every night there after. Forever."

He didn't reply in words. His emotional reply was enough.


	78. SEVENTY-EIGHT

**SEVENTY-EIGHT**

It was still early morning (and it couldn't have been very long after we had fallen asleep) as my full bladder forced me to disentangle myself from Max's warmth and quietly search out some clothes in the darkness.

I pulled a T-shirt over my head and soft sweatpants up my naked lower body before leaning over his sleeping face, pausing to watch the flickering movements of his eyes under his eyelids and take in the softness of his mouth as his lips were slightly parted in sleep. The way his cheek was pressed into the mattress and how his arm was hanging over the edge of the bed.

I jumped as he opened his mouth and whispered, "Where are you going?"

My breath caught, my heart hammering in my chest, and I said softly, "Go back to sleep."

With a tired groan, he opened one eye and looked at me. The warmth of his presence - of his alerted consciousness - was flowing around me. His tone was raspy with sleep as he repeated drowsily, "Where are you going, Parker?"

I brought my startled heart back under control, a smile whispering across my lips, and leaned down to gentle kiss him.

'Gentle' had honestly been my intention, until Max buried his hand into my hair and pulled my mouth closer, deepening the kiss. My stomach tightened as blazing desire shot straight through me and he swallowed my moan as he softened the kiss before pulling back.

"Don't go," he mumbled, looking up at me with dark eyes through a veil of eyelashes.

Lust was trembling through me, making my thighs clench in response to the memory of how his mouth could make me feel. In response to the memories of where his mouth had been just hours ago.

He reached out, his intense look locked on my face, and wrapped his long fingers around my hip, pulling me closer.

"Stay," he whispered, his voice warm enough to melt me into a puddle on the floor.

I swallowed, knowing that he probably already knew this through the connection, but croaked helplessly, "I need to pee."

His hand crept up the inside of the T-shirt, dancing lightly north along my skin. His thumb skimmed the underside of my breast, making me freeze in anticipation, before he slid his hand around the sensitive skin of the side of my ribs, to my shoulder blade, and pressed me forward.

He was pressing the side of his body up through his elbow to reach me; to get closer, and I felt myself gravitating towards him.

"Oh," he mumbled, in response to my clarification. "Then you have to go."

My eyes closed as his hand continued down my back, moving inside the sweatpants. I wasn't wearing any panties under those pants, and the knowledge made my breathing pick up as his touch cradled my hip before moving to my butt cheek, pressing his fingers into its pliable softness and tugging me forward rather suddenly.

A gasped laugh of surprise breezed out of me as I stumbled against him. "Max..."

There was amusement in my voice, reflecting the bewildered self-consciousness I was feeling at his actions in the middle of the night. How he always managed to surprise me, even when I was inside his mind.

He (easily) shifted me sideways, bringing my hips straight in front of him, before he rearranged his position in bed, coming to lie on his stomach facing me, and unceremoniously pulled my pants down.

The sound that came out of me was a mixture of a gasp and a surprised moan, as the long T-shirt (its size made it clear that I was wearing Max's discarded T-shirt instead of my own) lightly stroked against my now naked thighs.

My words had left me. My reasoning had taken a hike with my voice. My legs were trembling, making me place my hands on the top of his head, grabbing onto his hair for support.

Because he was stroking his warm hands up the outside of my thighs, catching the hem of the T-shirt on the back of his hands, bundling the material up on his wrists as his strong fingers traced the outline of my well-demarcated hip bones before pressing heatedly into the natural the dip of my waist.

I was holding my breath, my body moving in small restless movements. Because I knew that he was looking at me. I knew what he was seeing. Even if I hadn't been able to read his mind.

I still wasn't used to him looking at me like that. With untamed hunger. With exposed yearning. With consuming love.

I don't know if I would ever get used to the shame and the humiliation I felt being this exposed to someone. Standing naked in front of someone, while his feelings were almost sending me over the edge. The conflict in my head was extremely heart-wrenching. How my critical opinion of myself bounced against his adoration for that same body.

His grip on my waist was turning harder, his fingers digging into my waist, and the feelings that ran through me at the possessiveness of his touch would have sent me to the floor had that same grip not been holding me up.

With a simple flexing of his arms, my stomach was pulled up to his mouth, and he slowly pressed a kiss just above my pubic bone. My fingers dug into his scalp. His breaths were warm and present as he breathed against my skin, letting the sensations and feelings of our proximity, of our desire and love, pulsate through us.

I opened my mouth with the intention of reminding him that I needed to go to the toilet, when his mouth started moving horizontally along the invisible line where the top edge of my panties would usually sit. I could feel the occasional touch of his tongue in the center of his open-mouthed kisses, interspersed with sweeps of only his lips.

My whole being was so focused on the feel of his touch that I trembled every time he moved half an inch, which seemed to be the distance he had 'decided' to allocate between his kisses.

His thumbs were sinking into my hips, the tips of the other eight fingers digging into the top of my butt cheeks while his palms were fused so intimately to the sides of my pelvis that the affected area felt as if it was on fire.

He slowly kissed down the gentle ditch of my left groin and my hold on his hair, on his head, tightened in a desperate attempt to remain standing.

"I love you," he whispered, his words as tight with emotions as the connection vibrating intensely and brightly between us.

My eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut, slowly opened and I looked down at the crown of his head, and signaled my wish for him to not support my weight anymore, to let me slide to my knees.

He looked up at me as my knees touched the cold floor, and my chest ached with my love for him as I slid my palms down his temples, down his cheeks, the millimeters of stubble on the lower part of his face tickling my hands sensually. His eyes closed as I leaned forward and pressed gentle kisses on his eyelids, and he pressed his lips to the pads of my thumbs which I had paused against the center of his mouth.

"I love _you_ ," I said with quiet emphasis.

I felt his lips move into a smile beneath my thumbs and even the small movements his mouth made as he replied was enough to send me shivers of pleasure. "But you need to pee."

I giggled breathlessly and angled my face down to kiss his lips. Something I didn't think I would ever get tired of doing. My whispered reply was returning my shivers of pleasure to him as I confirmed, "Desperately."

"Then go," he commanded softly and reached around me to pinch my butt.

"Ow," I laughed and pulled back from him, catching his playful eyes as he struggled to restrain his grin.

His voice was oddly collected in contrast to him cracking up in his mind as he said, "But put some pants on first."

 _I had pants on,_ I fired at him grumpily and stepped back from him to retrieve my pants. A traitorous shudder of yearning rocked me as his hands fluttered along my hips as I withdrew.

As I stepped into the pants and started to pull them up my legs, Max reached out and grabbed a hold of the bottom hem of the T-shirt.

Looking down at him, his face was serious, his eyes searing straight through me. "Don't be gone too long."

I wanted to smile at him, but the intended casualness of the request was completely drowning in the gravity of his fear over losing me again.

We were taking the concept of separation anxiety ridiculously out of proportion.

I leaned down and kissed him slowly, pouring my heart into the kiss, and tenderly removed the rather tight grip he had on the T-shirt.

"I won't," I promised and left the room with his eyes following my exit with unblinking intensity.

* * *

My legs felt doughy, my heart filled with light, as I sank down on the toilet and finally got to do what I had been needing to do for awhile.

After, I stood in front of the sink. I had avoided looking up in the mirror since that first day, when the sight of myself had shocked me into an apathetic darkness of self-loathing I'd rather not revisit.

But this time I couldn't stop myself. I needed to see if the last couple of days had made any visible changes to my outside appearance that would confirm the changes I felt on the inside.

My hands gripped the edge of the cold white porcelain sink and slowly, I looked up. And started crying.

Because I could finally recognize myself again. At least parts of me. My cheeks had gained some color, my eyes had attained some light, my face had filled out and the bruises under my eyes had faded. I was still not back to my regular weight, but at least I didn't look like a walking skeleton anymore.

 _You're glowing,_ Max whispered through my head, making me aware of the fact that he had been listening in.

In response to his comment, I slowly brought my hand to my cheek and brushed it over my cheekbones. Tears were wetting my eyes, but they didn't roll down my face. They collected like a fine wet sheen of relief and hope, making my dark brown eyes glisten with life.

I brushed my hands through my hair, pulling it back from my face, before letting it cascade down my shoulders. There was life back in my hair. There was intelligence and wakefulness in the eyes of the reflection that was following my movements to the slightest detail.

 _ **You're**_ _making me glow_ , I thought and it might have been cheesy if it weren't for the tentative and almost surprised acknowledgement of that statement. It had just hit home for me how important Max had become to me. I hadn't known him for many weeks (only as a suspicious distant observer of his presence before that), but he was already such a big part of my life.

 _Come back to bed_. His request was laced with his need for me, to have me close and to feel my body melt against his.

 _On my way,_ I replied, washed my hands and sneaked a final astonished glance at myself in the mirror before I walked towards the door.

Pulling the door open and stepping out into the darkness, I walked straight into a warm, living obstacle. Something that almost made me fall over. Something that I couldn't identify in the darkness and which made my heart freeze and energy immediately tingle in my fingertips.

The faint scent of sweat, and something I couldn't pinpoint, traveled up my nostrils and my heart almost stopped as I recognized the unidentifiable presence in front of me to be a living and breathing person.

Someone that was grabbing my arms to stop my fall. Someone who immediately thereafter released me; the act telling me that the person was an alien who had felt the energy sparkling down my arms. The person took a quick step back, and as my eyes slowly adjusted from the bright white light of the bathroom to the dim darkness of the hallway, I noticed how the air seemed to ripple in the space between me and the dark stranger.

My breathing was loud in my ears, my body momentarily frozen in paused panic.

 _Liz?_

At Max's frightened voice, my body was propelled into action and I stumbled backwards, intending to pull myself backwards into the safety of the bathroom behind me.

But the stranger's voice stopped me, "Hey, hey. Calm down, alright? It's me. Michael."

My body was still tight in preparation and I briefly wondered if I would be able to hurt the person if I needed to. If I could still call on the connection. If I felt threatened enough to get it to react.

"Fuck," Michael said in a loud hiss that did nothing to calm my feelings, "What the hell are you doing? Is that energy? Down your arms?"

I felt Max's presence in the hallway the fraction of a second before he opened his mouth, "It's him, Liz. It's Michael."

Outside of all Max's capabilities, did he have bat eyes too? There was no way Max could see who was standing in front of me in this dark corridor. My breathing was fast, agitated, and my heart was thumping out of my chest. _How do you know?_

"I recognize his aura, okay?"

"Could you please tell your girlfriend to stand down?" Michael snapped, annoyance and hostility making the rippling in the air in front of him nauseatingly active.

Max stepped up next to me, taking a gentle hold of my elbow and pulling my into his side by wrapping his arm around my shaking body. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and they were confirming Max's words.

In front of me, behind vibrating air, was the annoyed version of Michael Guerin. His hair was a bit too long, standing out on all ends. As if he had just woken up. There was dark fire in his eyes and his lips were pressed into a tight thin line of anger. He was dressed all in black, making him blend in with his surroundings, and I noticed black straps crossing symmetrically over his shoulders, hanging down his sides. I've seen that accessory before. It was some kind of weapon string used by police and military. Squinting my eyes, I tried to see if he was wearing any weapons, but if he was, they were melting into the dark setting of the corridor.

Max startled me out of my cautious scan of Michael by trailing his hand down the arm being hugged under his and I looked away from Michael to see the sparkles flicker over my skin.

 _Calm down_ , he told me gently and I could feel him pulling the energy out of me. Not draining me, but retrieving and absorbing the excess. Since I obviously didn't know what to do with it (except releasing it).

"Remove your shield, Michael," Max instructed while lacing his fingers with the ones of my hands pressed to the front of his abdomen.

"I see what the big fuss is about now," Michael huffed and the ripples disappeared.

Had it been some kind of force field?

 _Yes_ , Max replied silently. _A protective field_.

"What are you doing here, Michael? At this hour?"

"Like it or not, Maxwell, I'm still your protector," Michael replied and I reacted to how unpleasant his voice was. How defensive and rough.

It was the combination of the texture of his voice with the manner in which he was addressing Max that instantly morphed my fear into anger.

"Really?" I spat, feeling Max's confusion at my anger through the bond. "And where were you when Max was being held captive, huh?" I pulled away from Max, and he let me go without question. I could feel his amusement, in reference to Michael's surprised reaction, when Michael took a step back and the air around him started to ripple again.

He had brought the protective field up again. Was he afraid of me? Or was he just doubting that I could control the energy and 'accidentally' hurt him?

"Fuck, Max. Tighten the leash on your woman."

"What?" Max scoffed, acting nonchalant but I could feel the anger of how much his comment had affected him. "You're not afraid, are you? She's just an insignificant human, after all."

I could only assume that Max was referring to something that had been discussed between him and Michael at some earlier point, but I didn't waste any time on pondering or reflecting over any possible details.

Instead I took a step towards Michael, his eyes narrowing and turning the darkest shade of black in the dimness of the hallway as he watched me point at him accusingly. "And why didn't you attend the meeting? As Max's protector, you should have been there!"

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes before completely ignoring me in favor of looking at Max. "Are you really going to make me explain the basics to this one?"

Apparently, those words combined with his obvious dismissal of me, snapped Max's control.

Before Michael could react, Max had pointed our still interlaced hands towards Michael and his protective force field. I had time to register the energy quickly gathering and feeling it being directed out through our hands. My adrenaline spiked in those few seconds when I was unaware of what Max had ordered our energy to do, until I saw Michael fall backwards and slide across the floor, down the hall, on his ass.

"He'll live," Max grumbled under his breath at me, when my fear of what Max had just made us do weakened my knees.

Instead, his attack on Michael - _our_ attack - was equivalent of him shoving Michael, but he had needed our combined energy to get through Michael's protective field.

In a way I wanted to do more, to make Michael understand that he should not have abandoned Max like that when he had needed Michael the most. But using alien abilities still frightened me. I would have settled for punching him the human way.

"What the fu-" Michael started, gingerly getting to his feet. I couldn't see his face in the darkness - not with him so far away - but I was pretty sure he wasn't very impressed with our display of power. Especially how we had been able to get through his protective field.

"I'm just gonna say this once, Michael," Max said, using our intertwined hands to pull me back against him. More for his benefit than for mine. "Don't you ever talk down to her again. She's included in the protection of me now-"

Michael snorted, brushing imaginary dirt off his pants, "Says who? You're in no position to change my directives."

I felt strong; my back straightening, my lungs filling with air and my chin raising. I noticed Max mimicking my change in posture. It was impossible to discern which one of us had influenced the other.

But it was Max's clear voice that boomed across the hall at his protector. As if _he_ was the one calling the shots. "In order to keep me safe, you have to keep Liz safe. We're linked."

Michael stared at us, remaining in a position several feet away from us. His voice was arrogant as he remarked, "Linked? As in both of you will die in case of the other's death?"

"No," Max said and I could hear the eye-roll in his voice. "But if Liz were to die, you might as well consider me dead."

I swallowed, my mouth turning dry, as I looked up at his hard-set profile.

 _Ditto_ , I whispered to his mind and his hand tightened around mine without letting go of Michael with his eyes.

Michael sighed loudly and mumbled under his breath, "Romantic BS," before clearing his throat and saying, "If you're done being drama queens, I would like to get back to doing my job."

"Oh?" I feigned surprise. "Starting now, are you? Because you've been doing a shitty job at it up until now."

"Liz..." Max murmured quietly, but my eyes were fixed on Michael's face wanting him to give me an explanation as to why Max had been abused over and over again - even before we were captured.

 _He was not allowed to protect me against our own_ , Max told me. _Just like Isabel or Alex haven't been able to intervene. It would be like going up against the police-_

"I don't care," I said out loud, meeting Max's concerned eyes. Without looking at Michael, I used my free hand to point at him sharply. "Someone that is suppose to protect you would do so even outside of some 'rules'. How can you trust someone with your life that wouldn't risk his life for you? Isn't 'taking a bullet for your client' a prerequisite for becoming a bodyguard?"

Max was trying to figure out a way to explain, but I didn't care about his explanations. He didn't need to explain. I knew the reasoning behind it - I wasn't stupid - but, "Alex helped me break into your house because I knew that something was happening to you. He did it, even though he knew that you were probably serving a punishment and he wasn't allowed to interfere with that. Isabel found a way around the rules and had _me_ give you warmth when she couldn't."

I narrowed my eyes at Michael and added acidly, "There are always ways around. If you're willing." I shifted my upset gaze back to Max and added heatedly, "He might be fighting on our side, but I don't trust him."

"Liz..." Max said quietly and almost sadly. Mostly because he wanted me to feel that I was protected by Michael, but also because my words had resonated with something that had bothered Max for as long as he could remember. For as long as Michael had been his protector.

The reason as to why Max had never let Michael in. Why they never had become true friends.

Because Michael followed the law precisely and accurately. Even if he was right now supporting a new authority to take the place of the old one, he would continue to follow whatever rules that new authority were to give him. As long as the rules were made by men of power.

This took precedent over his role as a protector.

From my outside perspective, Michael was not loyal to Max. He was loyal to his superiors. As our horrible past has just proven, your superiors could suddenly turn against you and order for your torture or death. Which meant that Max was never safe in Michael's 'care' as long as Michael's primary loyalty was with the superiors. Since Max was - hierarchically speaking - below Michael, he got the short end of the stick.

"Are you gonna let her talk to me like-" Michael started, but Max's loud and abrupt "Shh," must have stunned Michael into a general loss of words because he didn't continue what he had been about to say.

"I'm going back to our room," I told Max. "He can stay and _protect us_ -" my sarcastic bite had Michael's face turn into stone, "-if he wants to, but I think I'll do just fine without his protection."

Untangling my hand from Max's, I moved to the tips of my bare cold toes (the floor was freezing) and placed a soft kiss to his cheek, before turning my back on the aliens, walking into our bedroom and closing the door behind me.


	79. SEVENTY-NINE

**SEVENTY-NINE**

I was too angry to listen in on what Max might be experiencing emotionally in his discussion with Michael. I was puffing up the pillows on our bed (a nicer way of describing my evident abuse of the cushions), as I was trying to get my feelings under control.

I didn't like how Michael treated Max. I didn't like how Michael (obviously) viewed himself as superior to Max and that Max's health and life was directly dependent upon Michael following orders. That Max's life came second, even when Michael was his primary protection.

I didn't know Michael well enough to have acquired a full understanding of his views on human beings, but I had a very distinct feeling they weren't very good. I quite clearly remembered how he had always treated me in school. His insinuations, his _assumptions_ , that he was allowed to talk to me or treat me in a certain way.

I was pulling the duvet back when Max walked through the door to our bedroom. His feelings were cautious, as if he was trying to get a feel of the situation and figure out what to say. I wasn't hiding anything from him; my anger was simmering hotly through the bond making him very aware of my state of mind.

"Liz..."

"I would rather have Alex outside. Or Isabel." _Even if they aren't as trained in combat as Michael is,_ I added silently.

I didn't look at him to evaluate how my annoyed tone of voice had been received. Instead I stepped out of the sweatpants and pulled the T-shirt over my head. Leaving me completely naked.

My back was to his as I got into bed and pulled the duvet up to my chin.

I had felt the effect the sight of my naked body had had on him. Especially with our very recent lovemaking at the front of his mind. Especially considering that I had never before undressed like that in front of him. Like I wasn't the least self-conscious about him seeing me. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to be in front of him, in the exposing light from the floor lamp, without any clothing to shield myself behind.

I was too angry to care. I wanted to get back to where we left off before Michael had disrupted the order I had recently been fighting so hard to regain in the midst of the chaos that was my life. I wanted to get back to Max and I, in bed, hiding in our bubble of privacy and love.

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed as his feelings washed over me and I tried not to let them affect me. They were slowly eating away at my anger, making the overwhelming emotion weak and non-important. The strength of what he was feeling for me - physically _and_ emotionally - was making my body tremble. I curled further in on myself, pressing my knees together.

I was telling myself that I wanted to go back to sleep. That I wanted to forget about this whole Michael thing. The only way to do so was to literally close my eyes against it and wish it would disappear. Just like when you were a child and you hoped the monsters would disappear if you shut your eyes at them.

But at the same time, I wanted to lose myself in Max. I wanted him to help me get rid of the anger that didn't belong in me.

I felt the bed dip, heard the breeze of his breath close to my head, and I asked, "Is he outside?"

He neither gave a reply in words nor thoughts, instead pulling the duvet away from my body.

My eyes snapped open against the cold air, but before I had a chance to ask him what he was doing, his hand brushed against my neck causing me to freeze as my heart started a (by now) familiar excited rhythm. My skin was instantly on high alert, the sensation of my hair being moved over my shoulder, tickling my skin and exposing my throat, made me bite down on my tongue to silence a building moan.

He had muted his thoughts, letting me only dimly sense his emotions. Something that seemed to make his touches even more intimate, more sensual, more sexual. Because I had no idea where he was planning to touch me next.

 _Just like a regular relationship_ , I thought and he gently bit my shoulder, making me slide my arm out in front of me, feeling the coolness of the sheet against the soft skin of my underarm, only to desperately fist the sheet in my hand.

The warmth from his mouth against my skin shot straight towards my center and I tightened in arousal as he slowly marked my shoulder with his teeth. His lips and tongue gently soothed the nip from his teeth, before he deliberately trailed the curve of my left shoulder blade with his mouth, bathing my skin in his heated breath. Goosebumps exploded across my skin as he lightly fluttered his hand down the side of my chest, into the curve of my waist, up over the gentle hill of my hip, while his mouth continued down the length of my spine.

A whimper betrayed my feelings (as if he couldn't already read them), and while clenching the sheet in my hand, I rolled onto my stomach to attempt to alleviate the ache he was building in me.

His hand caressed over my butt at the movement, before running back up along the side of my body.

He wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing when his thigh brushed over the back of my thighs and he came to straddle me, keeping the majority of the weight of his lower body off mine while I felt his skin against my back. With the regular movement of his breathing against my upper body, I concluded that his chest was hovering above my upper body, confirmed by his lips pressing to the center of my back before he shifted (I felt every single millimeter of that shift), put the sides of his knees against my waist and leaned back into a seated position on the small of my back.

My insides tightened and I bit the pillow tucked under my head to restrain myself while he leaned forward and brushed my hair completely off my shoulders with his large hand. I was acutely aware of his other hand supporting his weight, since it was pressed into the mattress so closely to my body that I could feel his thumb against the side of my breast.

I felt a lot more exposed like this. A lot more fragile and vulnerable. When my body was locked beneath his, not being able to read him or even _see_ him. When my senses were responding to every small tremble of his body, repeatedly bringing me very close to the edge.

He started kneading the muscles of my back. Even though my eyes were closed to the sight of it, I could feel the added pleasure of the glow as he massaged the tension out of my shoulders. Either it was the glow, or he was using his healing ability, but whenever he would encounter a sore spot, a collection of pain, it would heat up until a point where I was about to scream, just before it magically disappeared. Like it had never been there to start with.

I wasn't even surprised that he knew how to massage. There were just too many factors making it possible for him to become an expert that I didn't even question it.

He languidly moved down my back, taking his time to disintegrate sore spots, heating up muscles, softening tightness. But he never once let me relax into the feeling. He kept me teetering on the brink of climaxing by brushing his fingers down the sensitive skin of my armpits to lightly cup the outsides of my breasts, before fluttering back up to my back, rubbing the muscles attached to my spine, before leaning over and kissing, nipping, and sucking on different spots on my skin.

My cheeks turned heated red with embarrassment as he continued down the softness of my bottom. My mortification grew as my body responded in the most disloyal manner, pushing my behind up against his pressing hands, the desire in me threatening to drown me.

He was moving his own body down the back of my legs, making my breath hitch, and his hands never left my body as they slid down the sides of my hips and the outsides of my thighs while his mouth kissed my recently adored butt cheeks.

The light slow touch of his hand between my legs was as innocent as it was non-lingering, making my body shudder and my lower body chase upwards after his touch.

But he continued down the back of my legs, pulling breathless giggles out of me as he kissed the ticklish areas at the back of my knees, before massaging down my shins.

Until he touched me, I had no idea that even the muscles of my shins were aching. That even my legs needed healing.

His caress back up my legs was a lot more firm, calling for my attention, before he put firm fingers on my shoulders and flipped me onto my back.

My hair brushed against the front of my shoulders, billowing down the tops of my breasts, some strands getting stuck to my moist lips, some twitching in the air from my shallow breathing, as my eyes collided with his.

His eyes drank me up. Shadows fell deliciously across his strong features as backlight lit the contours of his face. The shading to his features turned his eyes almost black. Or maybe it was the dilation of the pupils, eating up his irises, that flooded his eyes with intense desire.

He hadn't uttered a single word since he had entered the room and I could still only hear whispers of his consciousness in my mind. His eyes were slowly roaming my face, my soul paused in anticipation of what he would do next.

The sides of his wrists were pressing into the sides of my breasts, a point of connection I was as much aware of as his hips once again straddling my waist, even in my flipped position.

I wanted him inside of me. Now.

I encircled his wrists with my fingers and slowly stroke my palms up the length of his underarms - shivering with pleasure at the feel of the dark short hairs covering his arms - before circling around his elbows and grabbing the backs of his upper arms. A shudder went through him, his eyes drifting closed and my eyes were teased to his lips as he slowly licked them.

I slowly arched my back and the second the action had the lower part of my stomach come in contact with his privates, he flushed his upper body against mine, attacking my exposed neck with his lips.

"Max," I sighed as he kissed, nipped, and licked down the column of my throat.

I pushed my hands through his hair, my legs fidgeting against the white sheets. The length of his shins against the outside of my thighs made it difficult for me to move and I groaned in frustration, moving my hands from his hair to brush down his neck, down his shoulders and down the front of his chest.

He whispered my name against my collarbone, making my skin vibrate with the low tone of his voice.

I raked my nails up his chest and he crashed our lips together. His lips were hot against mine, enticing and passionate. He was tugging on my bottom lip, sensually touching my tongue with his, while he rearranged his position, lifting off me to slide his body in between my legs.

He drank my gasp of pleasure as his change in position brought him in intimate contact with my lower body. He deliberately rubbed against me, his hands moving teasingly over my breasts, down my ribs and up again.

I grabbed a hold of his ears, pressing the heels of my palms into his jaw, and got out breathlessly between the continuous assaults of his mouth on mine, "I need you."

He dove in and captured my lips again. Through my haze of desire, I could feel the distraction in the movement of his body against mine as he reached out to grab a condom from the drawer in the nightstand.

His lips slid down the edge of my jaw, giving me an opportunity to try and get oxygen into my starved lungs.

Then his hand was between us, rubbing against the enticed bundle of nerves at the apex of my legs, and my response was immediate.

"Ma-" He covered his mouth with mine, silencing the orgasmic scream of his name.

I was floating; my body completely relaxed in the aftermath of the perfectly executed massaging of my muscles, of his loving adoration of my skin, of the heat from the alien glow.

I was vaguely aware of him continuing to touch my skin - fluttering caresses over every inch of my skin - and while my breathing was slowing down and I was gradually landing in the solidity of my body, he pulled back to put the condom on.

My body tensed; it was prepared for another immediate climax before my mind had a chance to catch up, as he moved his palms up the sides of my upper body, before positioning himself at my entrance.

At that point, he removed the damper he had placed on his feelings and thoughts through the connection.

His desire, his need, his want, flooded my system along with his fantasies, the feel of my skin against his, the almost painful strain of his obvious arousal and the intense love he had for me.

It brought me straight over the edge again and - to avoid broadcasting to the rest of the building what we were up to - he repeated the act of muffling my gasped scream with his mouth while he pushed inside of me.

I never had a chance to come down from the high or let the orgasm ebb out before his slow thrusts, his hands moving slowly up my underarms to lace our fingers above my head, and his hungry kissing, brought me into the next one.

Power was building up around us, making the small hairs on my arms stand up. I distractedly noted a blinking light behind my closed eyelids as our fronts slid heatedly against the other with every thrust of his hips.

I was somewhere else. Drifting above my body. Drifting on the sensations as my ridiculously sensitized body fell into one orgasm after the other. My knees had fallen out to the sides; I was boneless.

Max shared in the phenomenon our bodies was experiencing. I could feel me spasming repeatedly around him with my multiple climaxes, could hear the wonderment in his mind at the fluid motion in loving my body. As if his body was following a choreographed dance, floating against mine. The only thing that kept him from drifting off along with me was his control. He was still holding himself back. Delaying his own release (which might have made him tumble into one peak after the other - right along with me) to prolong my pleasure.

But also restraining himself because he was afraid of what would happen if he would completely give in. Not only because of practical reasons (would our human protection be enough to prevent pregnancy in the case of multiple orgasms?), but also because he was afraid to let go with me. Afraid of what the connection might tap into. If he would somehow hurt me.

I pushed my chest up against his, curving my upper spine and straightening my neck as his grip was still holding my hands pressed into the mattress above my head, and pulled him into a deep kiss. His loving of my body slowed, his grip on my hands loosening, as he melted into my kiss.

I felt his heart beat hard against my breast. I felt the moisture from his sweat on his cheeks as I pulled my hands from his relaxed grip and cradled his face in my hands.

My mind was at peace. Bathing in tranquility and serenity. Through the calmness of my mind I whispered for him to, _Let go._

His hand came to cup my breast between our bodies, his thumb rolling over my erect nipple, and I gasped into his mouth. His body was doing all the right things, _feeling_ everything perfectly. But his mind was in conflict.

 _You won't hurt me_ , I assured him.

His eyes opened to look into mine and he slowly separated our lips. I felt the pounding consequences of our fierce kissing blush my sore lips as I waited for him to give in.

 _The connection won't let you,_ I added. _**I**_ _won't let you._

It was not like he hadn't let go with me before. It was not like he hadn't fallen apart inside of me in our past or as if he never had experienced an orgasm with me. But I had slowly come to realize that he had never fully let go. He had kept his control over his mind even as his body had made its release.

The control over his mind was what kept his abilities in check. It's what, in his opinion, made him _safe_ when in contact with humans.

It was the last barrier standing in between us. I desperately wanted him to lose himself. I desperately wanted him to get lost in the sensations. Just like he had me do. Over and over again.

He was a silent observer of my mind, of my thoughts, as I looked down the depths of emotion in his eyes. Maybe it was my reflections and silent monologue that made up his mind. Maybe it was a strengthening of the trust in the connection and that it would protect me. That it would protect me even against him. Or maybe it was a longing to fully experience us. Without any boundaries.

Something flickered in his eyes, something snapped in his mind, and he brought his arms around my back and arranged us into a seated position. The jostling of our physically connected bodies was bordering on painful and I momentarily bit my lip causing an apology to tumble quietly over his lips before he pressed the top of his thighs against my back, my legs draping down the outsides of his hips, his manhood deep inside of me.

The position put my head slightly above his and I stilled, my arms over the top of his shoulders, feeling a drop of sweat slowly slide down between my breasts, while I looked down into his open and honest face.

He was all around me. As deep inside of me as was possible.

With my nipples brushing against his smooth chest with our every breath, his hands moved sensually up my back, over my shoulder blades, shoulders and down my arms. The stillness of his lower body informed me that he was handing control over to me. The slow warm smile on his lips confirmed my realization as he said with that dark timber of his voice that made my whole body shudder with passion, "Take me away, Ms. Parker."

I felt the smile radiate off my lips and I silently nodded as I curled my hands around his strong shoulders for leverage and slowly lifted myself off him ever so slightly, before sinking back down on him again.

His soft groan and the closing of his eyelids encouraged my movements and I started a slow intimate move against him. At first, his hands held onto my waist tightly, his eyes closed, as he let me direct our lovemaking. But as the fire built within us, as my pace gradually increased, he couldn't resist to help me out by gently lifting his hips off the mattress to meet my movements.

The friction of our chests moving together, our shared sensations over the connection, the way he was filling me in the most complete way, the way I was wrapped around him - body, limbs, and heart, was making it hard for me to breathe. Was making me grip hard onto his hair and dig my toes in the mattress behind him, my heels occasionally brushing against his lower back.

I could _feel_ him easing off. I could feel how he purposely concentrated on letting all of his walls down, on allowing himself to get caught in the wave and let it carry him away.

When it happened, when his mind let go along with his body, his release spread like a fire into my body causing my body to disintegrate with pleasure, his cry of my name muffled against my skin as he pressed his face against the top of my breast. My vision went black for a second, heat flowed up my entire body, starting at the point where we were joined and ending in my chest. My breath got lost in the bright light I could see in his mind. My body was floating on the intense pure feelings of his being.

I no longer had a body. I was pure energy. Blending and mixing with Max's essence.

I don't know how long it lasted for. I don't know how we came to lie down on the bed or how our bodies moved into the position I found myself in when I came back to the solidity of my body.

I was almost expecting his first question to be 'Are you okay?', but to my surprise there was no worry in his mind. Not a single trace of concern or doubt. I had never experienced his mind so clear, so pure, so rid of self-criticism and guilt.

Turning to face him as we laid next to each other, my eyes connected with the bright golden hue of his irises and I startled at the sight, at the instant pure joy that flooded me.

He was gorgeous.

I gulped, bringing a trembling hand up to brush reverently down his cheek, his cheek moving into a soft smile beneath my touch.

No, he wasn't gorgeous. He was ethereal.

His smile broadened and he laughed, his laugher filling my chest with simple unquestionable joy.

Raising one of his eyebrows, he asked teasingly, "Ethereal?"

"You're..." I started, but had to lick my lips against the weakness of my voice.

There was a faint white line around the outsides of his face, tracing the contours of his whole body.

"You're..." I said again, frowning as I was trying to put into words what I was feeling, what I was receiving from him, what I was seeing.

"I've made you speechless," he mused, wrapping his fingers around my exploring hand which was tracing the relaxed features of his face, and bringing my palm to his mouth to adore it with a simple kiss.

"Yes," I gasped, my gaze flickering across his face in wonderment.

"I'm surprised we didn't shut the whole place down," Max said, amusement in his twinkling bright eyes as they roamed my face.

I focused on the blush of life on his cheeks and frowned. "What?"

He hitched his head towards the single light source in the room, the floor lamp. "We have a tendency to mess with the electricity..."

I remembered that we had. I remembered how that same lamp had flickered against my closed eyelids earlier. He was right. It was a wonder the place hadn't exploded along with us.

He was reading my face with a curious expression, slowly sliding the pad of his thumb up and down the side of my hand that he had gathered in his.

"Thank you," he mused softly.

My body was content in a way that shouldn't be humanly possible. I felt energized and revitalized. Reborn. Fueled with the purest and most primal of energies.

The smile on my lips came easy as I scooted closer to him, pushing myself up against him. "I was right, wasn't I?"

He smiled lovingly at my tease, letting go of my hand in favor of wrapping his palm around the back of my neck, bringing me closer and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"You're always right," he mumbled, sending delightful shivers through me. It was amazing how he was already getting me worked up again, even after what our bodies had just gone through.

"Mm," I agreed with a contented sigh, stealing another kiss from him.

We laid there for awhile, slowly fluttering our hands over our relaxed bodies, reveling in each other's presence, telling stories and laughing. There was no darkness in our minds. Not at that time. Only happiness and the simple stories of love.

But after an hour or so, Max told me that we should get some sleep. Still looking out for my well-being, he wanted me to get some rest even when our bodies felt like super-charged batteries.

He started rustling beside me, mumbling, "I'm just gonna turn off the light," as he moved to get off the bed.

I glanced at the floor lamp over by the door and commanded it to go _Dark_ and the lamp flickered out.

Max froze next to me and two long seconds passed before he whispered, perplexed, "Or you can do that."


	80. EIGHTY

_Child of Music and Dreams - Thank you :D ;-)_

* * *

 **EIGHTY**

His excitement was poorly contained as his whole body, frozen in this 'about to get out of bed'-stance, was tight with anticipation.

Smiling at the thoughts rushing through his mind, I asked, "Do you want me to turn the light back on?"

He slowly looked away from the switched off lamp, the twinkle of restrained expectancy in his eyes sending a delightful shiver down my spine. His exhaled, "Yes," was so transparent in its hopeful relief that he laughed guilty at himself. "Can you?"

Closing my eyes, I visualized the lamp in my head and thought _Light_.

But there was no flood of light against my closed eyelids.

Peeking one eye open, I groaned in disappointment at the darkness, "I was never really good at turning stuff on," referring to my ability to proficiently turn alien bonds off without the competence to switch them back on.

Max wrapped his arm around my naked waist, pulling me into his equally naked side, placed a kiss over the jugular vein throbbing fervently under my skin on the side of my neck while brushing his hand teasingly but meaningfully over my naked breast. "I wouldn't say that."

I rolled my eyes in the darkness at his very sexual thoughts and had a reply ready on my tongue, when he laughed quietly at me, pecked my shoulder and got off the bed.

I felt the absence of his body like a cold suction in my chest. He had felt it too. Leaning over me, he gently grabbed my chin and brushed his lips over mine, meeting my questioning eyes. "I'm just gonna get some water."

I frowned. _Okay?_

He grabbed his boxers off the floor, shimming them up his hips, throwing me a knowing grin as I followed his movements without blinking. He was still glowing. I could see the thin ring of light around him. My heart swelled painfully with the feelings I had for this man.

 _Be right back_ , he smiled, his teasing thought interrupting my own.

My answering smile was quick and distracted, and had him walk up to me, mold warm long fingers to my chin and place another soft kiss on my lips, before throwing me a departing wink. I watched him hurry out of the room. Excitement rolling off him like a child on Christmas morning.

As soon as his presence left the room, the energy in the room wilted. It felt dead and cold.

I laid down on my back, pulling the duvet close around my suddenly shivering body and looked up at the ceiling, my lips pursing in thought, as I absently searched through his mind. I was so deep in thought - in _his_ thoughts - that his mental admonishment startled me.

 _Liz, stop eavesdropping._

I bit my lip to restrain my smile at being caught. I hadn't been conscious of monitoring his mind. It all came so naturally nowadays; my thoughts fluttered around in his head as easily as my own did in mine. Although, I still hadn't learnt all that hiding and filtering that he did. Which, to be honest, was a bit unfair.

If I hadn't felt his presence approaching, Max would have surprised - and probably scared - me. He always moved so quietly.

Brushing the door he had left ajar open, he switched on the lamp he just passed with his hand (the one I had just turned off with my mind) and put a glass of water on the nightstand. After lifting and moving the nightstand more to face the middle of the side of the bed - balancing the glass perfectly on top while doing so - he got back into bed and pulled me up into a seated position next to him.

The touch of his hands was delicious as he moved them around my hips, around my waist, across my shoulders, as he positioned me in front of the nightstand and the glass.

I looked at his excited face incredulously. "I probably could have sat myself here on my own, you know."

He winked at me, his mouth in a half-grin. "I know."

I slowly shook my head, but couldn't help but smile. It was amazing how much we needed to touch each other. Every chance we got.

With Max, I wasn't even bothered by the fact that I was completely naked while seated in front of that glass of water. I wasn't self-conscious in front of him any longer. He pulled on the comforter and wrapped it around my shoulders though, to fight off the chill of the night.

I stared at the water. "Aaand..? You want me to drink it, or what?"

His excitement was filling his mind to such a degree that I couldn't decipher his thoughts. I couldn't make out what his intentions were.

Max met my eyes, his face suddenly serious, as he said, "Make it boil."

I moved my tongue over my teeth in contemplation, before mumbling naturally, "Of course," and looked back at the water as if I had never seen a glass of water before.

"Whatever you just did to turn that light off, do it to the water. Make it move like you made the switch move."

I wasn't really sure exactly _how_ I had made the light turn off. But I realized that Max was alluding to some kind of telekinesis. Moving things with your mind.

I couldn't see it like that though. That I was making things move without me touching them. Instead I visualized boiling water. My mental image of small bubbles repeatedly rupturing the water surface replaced the real image of the still cold water.

And within seconds, my visualization had become reality.

I stared at the glass as it boiled over, sizzling as the water hit the wooden surface of the night-stand.

Max cleared his throat, his voice barely a whisper, delivered with naked astonishment, "Okay." Then he waved a hand over the glass, making it immediately stop spurting heat, while he simultaneously moved off the bed, grabbed the nightstand and moved it back in position at the head of the bed.

Stopping in front of my stunned face, he coaxed me to look up at him, and said, "I want to do something else. But I don't want it to scare you."

I hesitated, his assumption about me becoming scared already making my heart flutter in anticipated fear and I breathed, "What?"

He searched my eyes, following every minuscule movement on my face, as he answered, "Heal me."

I paled, the comforter falling off my shoulders as I slowly rose to my knees, in attempt to line my face up with his. But as usual, he was too tall. "Are you hurt?"

My heart was pounding in my chest as I looked through both his mind and his body.

He gave me a gentle smile and shook his head. "Not yet."

I froze, my eyes widening in terror at what he was suggesting. "No..."

"Just a small one," Max said calmly. "Just a nick."

"No," I repeated, my mind seeing blood.

Max saw it too. He stepped close to me, flushing our upper bodies together and put his palm against my cheek as he tenderly looked down at me. I automatically leaned into it, my body trembling.

"You can do it," he whispered.

I couldn't. I'd always hated blood. Even before it had become a part of my everyday life. Even before I had watched it pour out between my fingers as I had pressed my hand against Max's stabbed chest.

He put his arms around me and pulled me into his warmth, pressing soothing lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes and tried to get my heart back under control.

"Is it important?" I whispered.

"If you can heal," Max said, "it means that we're sharing special abilities. And that would be..." he placed another kiss to my forehead, "...unheard of."

I shut my eyes tightly against it. On one hand I really wanted to be able to do it. It would mean that I had the power to actually help. That I could protect Max.

But on the other hand, it meant going through everything that Max was going through when he healed someone. Their pain, their distress. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that. If I was strong enough to shoulder that.

"I'm not signing you up for the medical team," Max whispered against my hair when my thoughts were jumping to enormous expectations. "Rome wasn't built in a day."

My fingers were digging into his back as I hugged him tighter. The solidity and size of his muscles had started to reform over the last couple of days. We were both eating better, getting back to our normal physiques and strength. I loved the solidity of his body, how the feel of him anchored me.

"Just a superficial healing. Bringing skin cells back together."

I took a deep breath. _You really think I can do it?_

 _I think you can rule the world if you set your mind to it._

"Hm," I huffed, but couldn't help to smile at his suggested thought. Pushing the memory of the metallic smell of blood to the back of my head, I nodded. "Okay."

He pulled back and looked me intently in the eyes. "I can heal it with a wave of my hand if it becomes too much, okay?"

"Don't brag," I breathed and he rolled his eyes at me, bent to give me a brief kiss and stepped away from me.

Out of the drawer in the nightstand, he produced a knife. I stilled at the sight of it.

He had a knife in our room?

"For protection," he answered, grim darkness to his voice. "So that _you_ would be able to protect yourself. And in case my powers were immobilized."

 _Right,_ I thought. Still the sight of it unnerved me. I glanced around the room. What other weapons had he hid away?

He laughed quietly and shook his head at my musings.

"What?" I asked. "It's a legitimate question."

He didn't reply, instead grabbing my thick hoodie from the foot of the bed and handing it to me, "Put it on," because he had felt that I was cold even before I had.

I pulled the shirt over my head, pushed back my hair and pulled the comforter up over my legs while I silently watched Max put on a T-shirt and take a seat on the bed, opposite my cross-legged frame.

He held my eyes for a second, before diverting his attention to the knife in his hand. I kept my eyes on his face as he tightened his hand around the blade of the knife and slowly pulled. I swallowed at the wince crossing his features, feeling an odd heat in the middle of my own palm.

Max glanced at me, before placing the knife on the nightstand. Hiding the wound in his fist, he looked at me and asked, "You ready?"

I slowly shook my head, but answered, "I don't like you in pain, so..."

He smiled warmly at my concern. "This doesn't hurt, babe."

"You keep telling yourself that," I retorted, feeling the fresh burn (although small) of his wound through the connection.

The blood was already a bit smeared in the center of his palm, from him clenching his hand, and the sight of it made my breath hitch.

His eyes were on me the whole time, his unwounded hand on my knee underneath the duvet. "You're doing fine."

I inhaled deeply. "So how do I do this?"

"Well," Max exhaled slowly. " _I_ do it by sending energy into the cells, motivating them to regenerate, to knit together. But you might be doing it differently. Considering how you seem to 'move things', you might just move the cells back together; close the gap."

So we do it differently?

"There's no right or wrong here, Lizzie," Max said. "Your mind works differently than mine. You have your own methods to solving problems."

I took a deep breath. "Okay."

Considering what Max had just told me, how he suspected my 'powers' (I snorted at the concept, ignoring Max's grin in response to that) worked, I figured that I didn't need to actually physically touch someone to be able to heal.

Still, I cupped my hands under his bleeding hand, cradling his large hand in my two smaller ones, and closed my eyes. I thought of the blood tainting his skin and visualized past it, seeing the small incision in his skin. Next I pictured the unnatural parting to his skin being pulling back together, much like one would pull on a zipper, the edges of the wound lining up, back to their original position.

I peeked one eye opened, almost as if I would destroy something if I looked too quickly.

Max was not looking at his hand, he was still looking at me, as he stated, "The pain is gone."

I frowned, looked closer at his hand, still smeared with blood, and distractedly mumbled, "I thought you weren't feeling any pain."

He ignored my comment. "Is it there?"

"You're still bloody," I whispered.

"But not bleeding?"

"I don't think so."

"Wait, let me see," he said and I leaned back to give him room.

He moved his healthy hand over his palm and the blood vanished, like magic. Next we both leaned forward, our foreheads brushing while looking closely at his hand.

In the center of his palm was a faint red line. But no open wound. The skin was completely closed.

I think I never had experienced Max's mind being so blank. Obviously, I had stumbled upon another, more literal, definition to being 'thoughtless'.

Still, I asked, "What are you thinking?"

"I..." he started, but his mind was still paused. Together we watched as he experimentally flexed and stretched out his palm, his fingers.

"I'm thinking..." he looked up and met my eyes with a smile, as fresh thoughts started to bloom out in his mind. "We should do some more experimenting."

I stared at him, not knowing if I should cry or laugh. But before I had a chance to choose either, Max had jumped off the bed and searched out pants for both of us.

"Get dressed, Parker."

* * *

I took me awhile to figure out why he was so elated. Why he was more excited than I had ever seen him.

Sure, it was pretty cool to watch billiard balls move by their (seemingly) own volition and make toast explode. But that couldn't be what excited Max. He was an alien, surrounded by other aliens with incredible abilities. There should be almost nothing he hadn't seen. Nothing that could surprise him.

He was so caught up in testing this and that, that I don't think he was aware of me quietly watching him. Being intrigued by his happiness and confounded by his exhilaration.

He had scoffed at his own healing ability when I had told him that it was an amazing gift. He had hated himself for erasing my mind, even if it had only been once. Max had an ingrained disgust for everything alien, including himself.

Yet, he was over the moon when I switched off a light with my mind.

But after awhile, it started to make perfect sense. It had nothing to do with me as a simple human being demonstrating alien traits. It all came back to his need to protect me. To keeping me safe. His need to build me up and make me believe in myself. The main reason for him being happy about this development, was that I could protect myself. That it was a testament towards me growing stronger.

No one would be able to push me around.

But also (as I later picked out from his thoughts), it gave him a sense of belonging, similar to what our bond signified for him. He didn't feel so odd, so weird. Not when I could do stuff that were considered 'odd' as well.

He was excited that we could be two oddballs together.

Our nightly antics had soon attracted every single tired (and slightly annoyed) inhabitant of the former hostel. Our experiments were not particularly quiet.

Each and every one of them had walked into the common room in a similar fashion; dragging their feet tiredly, yawning, and opening their mouths with the intention of audibly letting us know just how much they didn't appreciate our loud nightly activities.

But not a single one of them ever got a word out. They were either interrupted by exploding bread, by Max demonstrating energy blasts, by Max and I attempting to play pool with powers (him directing the balls with energy, me with my mind) or by Max loudly high-fiving me.

They all gravitated silently towards the couch, clad in different types of sleeping attires, and watched the show. We were not paying them much attention, to be honest; too caught up in our own world.

So caught up that none of us really noticed how much energy all of this was taking from me. How I was faltering.

Until Max suggested that I should mentally move a chair and I collapsed on the floor.


	81. EIGHTY-ONE

**EIGHTY-ONE**

"I'm so sorry," was the first thing Max said to me, before I even had my eyes fully open. "I pushed you too far. I should have noticed how your energy... God... I'm so sorry."

I tiredly blinked my eyes and tried to focus on his face looking down at me.

"What happened?" I mumbled tiredly, the letters rasping against my dry throat.

"I fucked up," he said tensely, no confusion to the magnitude of his self-hate as disgust made the corners of his mouth tremble in a grimace and anger blotched his cheeks red - in stark contrast with the whiteness of his face.

With a moan, my eyes fell shut. My whole body ached, but mostly my head. My head was pounding. As if someone had hit me over it with a considerably hard object.

"If you'll let me, I'll remove that for you," Max said. His words made no sense and through the fog of my headache I realized that he wasn't touching me. He _felt_ really far away. I groaned while pushing myself up on my elbows, attempting to get closer to him.

At least my movement made him touch me, if only to gently pushed me back down, right as I was starting to feel dizzy. "No. Stay down."

I wet my lips. Slowly. Distractedly. Why was everything so dimmed? So unreachable? "What are you talking about, Max?"

I was too tired to even attempt to search through his thoughts. But I had the strongest horrible feeling that he was blocking himself from me.

"I won't heal you without your permission."

I made a feeble attempt at deciphering the detachment in his voice, before resigning with a tired sigh. "Don't be silly." What was he on about now? "When have you ever needed my permission?"

"I keep putting you in danger. I can't believe I just did that. I was careless - with you. That's... I can't even..." The sound level of his voice was rising and I felt it throb inhospitably through my overwhelming headache.

With my eyes closed, I used the little energy I had to blindly fold my arms around his neck and pull his talking mouth to mine.

"Shut up," I commanded weakly against his lips and used my lips to work around his resistance. I knew that he had nothing against kissing me. He just thought he didn't have the _right to_ , all of the sudden.

He pulled back before we, in my opinion, were anywhere close to done, causing me to moan with a mixture of dissatisfaction and frustration, and rested his forehead against mine.

"I should have noticed too, you know," I said, the memory of the minutes just before I had passed out in front of everyone slowly coming back to me. "That I was getting tired."

He pulled back, breaking the skin contact between our foreheads, and my arms lost their grip on his neck. "But you weren't the one coming up with more and more stuff to do."

A cold shiver raced through me at his physical distance, emphasizing our emotional and mental separation. Through the dazed haze of my mind, only one thing had the power to make its way clearly through. Like a bright beacon in the night.

I had to, quickly, pull him out of his darkness.

I took a deep mental sigh in preparation, gathering my strength to focus on reaching him. My head throbbed painfully, my eyelids blinking slowly, while I give him a soft half-smile and tried to get him to see my point of view. "You were having fun. I loved how much fun you were having."

Obviously, my means of comfort fell flat as Max said darkly, "I can't have fun at the expense of your health."

I took a deep breath, my attempted smile dying on my lips. "Of course not. But you would have stopped if you had noticed, right?"

He dipped his head forward, the hair against his forehead casting a shadow down his face, down his pulled down eyebrows as he mumbled lowly, "I should have noticed."

With him back within my reach, I lifted a tired hand and threaded fingers through his fringe. His hair was getting long. He needed a haircut. "You're not Superman, Max."

Max looked up at me, his eyes the darkest shade of disappointment. Disappointment with himself.

"I still should have noticed," he insisted stubbornly, as if my health and well-being was resting on his shoulders. Just like he had said even before we had really known each other; that I was 'his responsibility'. I was starting to understand how much he actually believed that.

And having to look out for another person's life was a very heavy task to carry. Especially for a 16-year-old.

I sighed, the painful presence of my headache winning out over my patience. "Can you please heal me now? My head is killing me."

His hand was trembling slightly as he wordlessly placed it against my forehead. He was upset. Really really upset.

The relief was immediate and felt amazing.

I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, reveling in the sensation of floating and easy breathing, "You do great work, Evans."

He pulled his hand away, making me look up at him at the sudden chillness. "Liz, this is serious."

I slowly got up from my horizontal position. There was no risk of me being dizzy this time. Not with Max's energy thrumming through my veins. I took in the hunch of his shoulders, how he hung with his head, the shadows of worry in his eyes as he moved them between my face and his hands. His whole demeanor had changed. His self-loathing had melted into chilling fear.

"I know, Max," I said gently. "Calm down."

He leaned forward, trailing a hand down the front of my throat, down over my heart, pressing his hand to the top of my breast for a second, a distant look in his eyes as they followed his hand's journey. "You could have died."

I caught his hand, lifted it from my chest and pressed my lips to his palm. "But I didn't. Not with you there."

He frowned, annoyed, "That's not-"

Looking at him sternly, being infected with his irritation, my voice was sharp as I interrupted him, "How do you expect me to go into battle with you, when I haven't tried my limits? At least now we have some idea of how much my body can handle. At least at this stage of my...development. And we know now that the fatigue seems to come on quickly, which is why we missed it. I just have to be a bit more in tune with it. We got a bit carried away, sure, but wasn't it better for it to happen in our living room than in front of Command?"

I couldn't hear his thoughts, couldn't hear his reasoning, but I could see them working through his mind, his gaze tracing my features, his mouth set into a stubborn line.

"Trust me, Max."

He frowned. "I trust you."

I searched his face. "Then trust yourself."

That probably hit straight home, because he didn't give me a response to that. His jaw tightened before he dropped his eyes to the bed sheet.

 _God, you're so stubborn_ , I told him, knowing that he could hear me.

His jaw clenched.

Guiding his hand back down to my chest, I held it gently in my hand and my voice was equally gentle as I leaned forward, closing the distance between us. "I think, for this to work, that we have to be equal. Not in power, but in our trust in our power. We have to be equal in our belief in each other, in ourselves."

"I believe in you," he told me, slightly defensively, worried that he had failed in proving that to me.

I smiled at him. "There's no doubt about that." I shook my head slowly, "But you don't believe in yourself."

I could see that he wasn't really agreeing with me, but he didn't voice his objection, instead letting me speak, "It feels as if the connection is trying to guide us, but in the end _we_ have to be the ones to carry things through." I looked down at his hand in mine. The hand that could heal. And I was saddened, for not the first time, about his blindness to his own capabilities.

"You have to let go of your control, Max." I kept my eyes on his hand. It was difficult to be this honest with him. I didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to boss him around or make it sound as if I knew better than him. Because I didn't. We were both equally lost regarding facts about this connection. "So do I. Do you really think that I would have lasted that long today if we hadn't been having fun?"

He looked up at the same time as I did and I rose a bit in my seat, coming to my knees, resting my behind on my heels. "I don't think I should have been able to do all of that. Not my first time around. How long were we at it? An hour? An hour and a half? But we were playing around with it, letting go of the control. Believing in us, in the connection, in our strengths."

Light flickered in his eyes and I could see him swallowing his pride, second-guessing if he had, indeed, reacted badly to this whole thing. Looked at it in the wrong way. If there even was a right or wrong in these situations.

"Outside of making love to you," he whispered, his eyes burning as they traced the blush that colored my cheeks. "I've never felt more alive than I did today." His eyes were deadly serious as he looked at my mouth. "But then you sank to the floor, and I-"

I put my arms around his neck and pressed my forehead against the side of his warm neck. "I'm right here."

His arms went around my back and my hold on him tightened at how his arms quivered in their embrace.

"I can't lose you," he whispered. "And I know that in order for us to be able to fully live, to be free, we have to fight them. I'll have to put you out there. That scares me...so much. Sometimes I can hardly breathe. I don't know how to deal with all of that..."

"Don't you think I feel the same?" I asked him, placing small kisses in the curve between his neck and his shoulder, in the space not covered by his shirt. "I don't want you there either. I'm afraid of what you might turn into when you see them, knowing what they have done to us-"

"To you," he interrupted tightly. "I don't care about what they did to me. They're a part of me. They're _my_ race. I've known of the laws my whole life and, being fully informed of the consequences of breaking those laws, I still broke them. You, on the other hand, had no idea what you were getting yourself into. You had no choice. You _never_ had a choice. That's what I hate most about all of this. That you were punished - relentlessly - even when you had done absolutely nothing wrong. You were punished when you haven't even been given a choice. That's sick. That makes me want to do...fucking terrible things to them."

I had slowly crawled into his lap during his confessions. "They wronged you too. Even if you broke their laws, those laws are not the truth. They're made up by power-hungry heartless control freaks. Just because they were created by a council doesn't mean that they are right. They have no right to treat you that way."

I pulled back, my wrists resting against his neck, my hands lightly interlaced behind his head and I warmed from top to toe from his intense gaze locked on my face. I had his full attention. Even though his full attention seemed distracted by the closeness of my lips to his, considering that his gaze kept moving between my eyes and my mouth.

I was, myself, momentarily distracted by the thickness of his long eyelashes, by the curve of his mouth, by the enigmatic color of his eyes, before I forced myself back to the conversation with a slow controlled blink of my eyes.

"I'm afraid that you will only fight for me out there. And I will fight for you. That doesn't unite us. That doesn't make us help each other. That puts us on our own separate paths, with separate agendas. We have to hold them accountable for what they've done to _us_ , to my mother, to previous gaeas, to humans who've had their minds involuntarily erased to not reveal alien secrets, and all other terrible things they might have exposed my race to. But we also have to hold them accountable for what they might have done to their own race. Because even if I don't know much about your history, I know that you have a whole center for wiping the memories of your own when you 'get out of line' and that's just horrible."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I had to get my final two cents in, "This is personal, but we can't make it _too_ personal. It will make us vulnerable."

He closed his mouth again and just stared at me, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"What?" I whispered, tempted to smile along with him.

"We should make you our new president or something," he said, grinning now.

I raised an eyebrow. "President of Aliens?"

"And I would be First Gentleman," Max announced simply.

I laughed. His ability to completely flip a serious situation to a light one still impressed me. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself now, Max. Do you have any comprehension of the commitments the spouse of a President would have to handle? There's only so far your pancakes will take you."

"Ha. Ha," he quipped sarcastically.

"Knock knock," Isabel said from the door, making us both turn our heads in her direction. "Are we interrupting?"

"No, you're fine," I answered, scooting off Max's lap and silently telling him, _Now, stop blocking me._

He snapped his eyes towards mine in amused surprise, most likely as a result of my authoritative tone, and answered, _Yes, Madam President_.

I was about to roll my eyes at him when his thoughts and feelings rushed through the bond and I swayed in my spot. It was amazing that the unblocking of the bond continued to have that effect on me. That I never quite got used to the depth and richness of his essence.

"Are you okay, Liz?" Isabel questioned and I noticed Alex standing behind Isabel in the doorway. "You got us a bit worried there."

Alex stepped into the room, pausing next to Isabel. "A bit?" He snorted. "You should have seen how Max reacted. He- ooof." Isabel had just jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow.

But I had already felt Max's reminiscent feelings of the incident, the exact things he had been blocking from me. I caught glimpses of my unconscious body on the floor, of Max pushing all his feelings to the side to focus on transferring energy into my lifeless body. With a shiver in response to his dark memory I reached out and grabbed his hand, pressing it tightly against mine as his panic and fear echoed through me.

"I'm okay," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking at Max's feelings thrumming through the bond. "I got a bit carried away."

"Yeah," Isabel frowned. "What was that?"

"That was quite the show," Alex added and took a deliberate step away from Isabel, in case she felt like 'silencing' him again. To the causal observer, Isabel didn't acknowledge Alex's antics, but I caught the small smile in the corner of her lips and the subtle flicker with her eyes in his direction.

"We're not sure," Max replied, interrupting my quiet observation of Isabel and Alex, "but it seems as if Liz has fully tapped into the connection."

Isabel raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in interest. "Really? Does this mean that we should call for a meeting?"

I met Alex's eyes and I could feel his worry. He was having a hard time controlling his emotions again, letting them seep out from his empathic ability and affect the people around him.

Isabel noticed too, since she turned to Alex and, to my surprise, briefly took his hand. "She'll be fine, Alex. Liz can do this." She looked away from him, releasing his hand and looked at me. "Right?"

Alex was staring at Isabel, probably just as surprised as I was at Isabel's method of comforting him. But Isabel was back to being untouchable, with her eyes fixed on Max and I, her facial expressions neutral and slightly expectant as she waited for our answer.

"I'm working on it," I replied, not wanting to disappoint her.

I knew that I could do it, especially if Max was in it along with me. But I also knew that I still needed time.

 _And you're getting as much time as you need_ , Max told me.

 _But maybe we should talk to your father still_ , I mused. _He has the right to know_.

 _I can do it, you don't have-_

 _You can't protect me from these things forever, Max. I need to become a part of it. Attending those meetings is the least scary part of our future._

"Care to share?" Isabel asked, interrupting our mental conversation with a bemused smirk.

"Liz wants us to have a meeting," Max said, giving me a grumpy look.

 _I wouldn't necessarily use the word 'want', but..._

"Does this mean that you'll start practicing now?" Alex asked. "Cuz that would be cool."

Max tensed next to me. His voice was a biting growl, "We're not doing this for entertainment value, Alex."

Alex just smiled at him, holding his hands up in surrender in front of his chest. "Whoa, down boy."

"We know that, dear brother," Isabel said calmly, looking at Max as if he was being silly.

I turned my head to smile at Max, squeezing his hand. Through our bond, he was worrying about our future and he was still plagued by what had recently happened to me. Something that might very well happen again if I were to go into 'practice'.

Indubitably, Max was not ready to be calm and reasonable about this subject yet.

"Let's talk it over with your father first, okay?" I suggested, meeting Max's eyes.

His jaw muscles contracted, sharpening his contours and darkening his eyes, before he finally nodded.


	82. EIGHTY-TWO

**EIGHTY-TWO**

There was something about the way Philip Evans looked me over that I hadn't noticed before, but in retrospect I was fairly certain he had done to me several times. Max did the same thing. I wondered if they were scanning me. If they were unconsciously checking my status or consciously looking for injuries.

The reason why I noticed this time was probably because of the lingering slowness to Mr. Evans' 'scan'.

Max tensed next to me and I distractedly caught onto his insecure thoughts. He was wondering if his father was seeing something Max had missed. If Max hadn't healed me properly when I had fallen to the floor. Because even if Max hadn't felt allowed to remove my headache earlier, I was grateful that he hadn't been ruled by his self-blame (and not healed me) when my energy had been dangerously low as my limp body had connected with the floor.

Max was now wondering if there was something inside of me that he had not picked up on; something that could be hurting me.

Like a shocked and frightened man, awaiting the test results to his loved one, Max was holding his breath as his father's gaze moved up my body and slowly reached my face.

Mr. Evans frowned, a small barely noticeable twitch in the corner of his eye putting me on edge. I'm sure I wouldn't have noticed that twitch on my own. It was actually Max - who knew his father better - who had picked up on it.

"You're using non-human abilities," Mr. Evans stated slowly, his voice bouncing off the thick hushed anticipation of the room.

I nodded haltingly, still wanting to know why Max was stressing out, and why his father had frowned when he had seen me.

 _There's something wrong_ , Max whispered fearfully into my head, making my heart clench. _But he's not going to tell us_.

If he hadn't been so afraid for my health, Max's primary reaction right now most probably would have been anger. Instead, he reached for my hand and interlaced our fingers.

My eyes were fixed on Mr. Evans' face, enabling me to catch the faint interest in his eyes as he followed his son reaching out to grab my hand. I looked down at Max's and my hands almost expecting to see something fantastic.

But there was nothing odd about our handheld. His skin was darker than mine, his hand so large in comparison, the tightness of the grip visible to the eye as the tips of his fingers were white from the clasp, creating equally light areas of whiteness where the pads of his fingertips pressed into my skin.

"Let's take a seat," Mr. Evans suggested evenly and gestured towards the dining table. We had gathered in the common room of the hostel. Where pieces of exploding bread still covered the wooden floors, along with several puddles of water on the floor from me boiling the water in assorted pans and pots. It looked like the aftermath of the playtime of two under stimulated kids.

I moved forward in accordance with Mr. Evans' suggestion, but Max stood still, tugging me back with our clasped hands.

I looked over my shoulder at him, frowning. "Max?"

The connection was bubbling with his conflicting emotions, making me dizzy and making it impossible for me to read him.

With his strong pull, I stumbled into his body. He wrapped his arms around my waist, the difference in our height making him lift my body to the tip of my toes as he hugged me tightly, his warm lips touching the side of my throat as he pressed his head into the curve of my neck.

 _Are you okay?_ he whispered through my head, in a mental voice that told me that _he_ was anything but.

I swallowed, that familiar fear making me feel weak. Too weak to reciprocate his hug. My arms hung at my sides, over his arms, as the pressure of his arms under mine had me float slightly in the air.

 _What do you see?_ I whispered, wondering if Max had figured out what Mr. Evans was reacting to (in his mild way of 'reacting').

His grip tightened, making it hard for me to take full breaths. But before I could object, he had realized what his panic was making him do and had eased off on his grip again.

 _There's something going on with your color field. I didn't think much of it, because you have just been unconscious and you've been drained of energy, but..._

His anxious mental rant trailed off and my thoughts filled in, _But he's seeing something else._

Moisture from his lips heated the side of my neck as he pressed a kiss there while thinking, _You seem okay. I can't-_

"Max," Mr. Evans interrupted us.

I had forgotten that we were not alone.

"Let's talk, shall we?" Mr. Evans suggested, his voice defining the concept of neutral.

The reluctance with which Max let me go tore at the very fundamental level of my cells. It was like he was cleaving himself in half by releasing the grip on my body.

I wrapped my hands around his left underarm and tugged him gently forward, towards his father.

"How are you feeling, Elizabeth?" Mr. Evans asked as Max pulled a chair out for me and silently gestured for me to sit.

I was concerned that Mr. Evans' observations of me was making me into a liar, which had my reply waver with uncertainty, "Fine?"

Mr. Evans nodded thoughtfully, before turning his intelligent and observing eyes to Max. "And you, my son? How are you?"

I'm not really sure why (because it could as well just be a father in general asking about his son's current status as means of being polite), but his question sent my stomach to my toes with ice-cold apprehension.

My eyes snapped to my lover's profile and I felt the immediate shock to his father's question be replaced by Max's annoyance. "I'm not the one who just passed out, Dad."

Was there something wrong with Max? I tried to swallow around the dry lump of frantic fear in my chest. Was Mr. Evans seeing something in Max?

I found myself wishing that I could scan _him_ , see _his_ color field (and know how to interpret it), so that I could tell if something was wrong.

 _I'm fine_ , Max spoke clearly in my head. But he failed to conceal his defensiveness and the wobbling insecurity.

"No, you didn't pass out, Max," Mr. Evans agreed. "But you two are bonded. What happens to her," he hitched his head meaningfully towards me, "happens to you."

My eyes shot to Max's face. I thought about feeling the knife go into my chest by Sean's hand. I thought about Max feeling my menstrual cramps. I thought about feeling the freezing coldness in his body when he was being kept half-naked in an ice-cold basement.

My heart was beating wildly in my chest as I asked Mr. Evans with a whisper, "What's wrong with us?" while still keeping my eyes on Max's profile.

Max's thoughts were matching mine. While I was going through memories of feeling whispers of his pain, he was sharing my nightmares, feeling my anxiety, soaking in my tears of grief from the death of my mother.

I was holding my breath as I watched his presence visit me in the shower, right back to a time when I thought I had imagined his presence, brushing it away with rationality. Before I knew he was an alien. At the very beginning of the best and worst period of my life.

Of course, I had unconsciously known for some time now that we had been sharing pain, not just emotional but also physical. Nevertheless, to hear Max's father say it made it frighteningly real. Did it mean that a sickness of mine, a fatal injury of mine, could kill Max? Was that why I had passed out when Max had been stabbed? Had I actually been injured too?

But Max had told Michael that we were not physically linked. Which I had interpreted as our life forces not being linked. The sustaining of our lives didn't depend on the other.

But how would Max know that? _Could he_ know that? No one seemed to know that much about our type of connection.

The thoughts rushing through my mind were so quick, almost frantic, that not more than two seconds had passed when Mr. Evans' reply put a halt to my thoughts, "I'm not sure."

I had turned my eyes to Mr. Evans at his reply, but my attention was quickly returned towards Max as his sudden anger hit me right in the chest, threatening to send my heart rate off into a wild goose chase after my feelings.

He bolted up from his seat, making the chair topple over behind him with a loud clatter. I jumped in anticipation of the loud voice that would match the fury inside of him, but my body did a sudden 180 degree turnaround at the cold collectiveness of his question, covering me in shivering goosebumps. "How the fuck do you not know?"

My wide eyes stared at Mr. Evans, hoping for everyone's sake that he had an answer, and watched Mr. Evans' face harden, his eyes become unreadable, as he opened his mouth to reply.

But Max beat him to it. "You come in here and scare Liz to death by throwing around warnings about our health and then you don't even have a fucking explanation for it?" He was growling, forcibly pushing the words out through clenched teeth.

His whole body was tense while I was burning up with his anger. I curled my fingernails into the top of my thighs, forcing myself to take a deep breath. Trying to find solace, coolness, in the midst of the burning inferno of his relentless protectiveness towards me.

His tension was working itself into my body and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, pressing my thighs together as my stomach coiled and tingles spread out to my fingers and toes.

"Watch your language, Max," Mr. Evans warned coldly while a wave of heat flushed over me, making my eyes shut while my back arched and my head dipped backwards.

I gasped loudly at the sensation, at the tearing of my insides. It was not necessarily painful, but horribly uncomfortable. As if someone was cooling me down while heating me up. As if every cell of my existence was sharpening with freezing crystallization while melting with unbearable heat.

"She's-" I heard Mr. Evans say, but Max interrupted him with a sharp, "I can see it."

His hands were moving over my body, his face leaning over my tilted head. I moaned (with desire?) as his hands fluttered over my body in response to his desperate thoughts to try and ground me to something. To pull me back from wherever I seemed to have gone.

"Fuck, Dad. What's-"

"There's nothing I can do," Mr. Evans said as my head lolled forward and my eyes opened. "I can't access her."

My breathing was harsh in my ears as I felt myself gravitating towards Max. My neck tightened to support my head as I looked up at him. I brushed his dark eyes to the side to quickly grab his neck with my shaking hands and crash my mouth to his.

I had a fleeting thought that this was inappropriate behavior. That I shouldn't yank Max down on top of me (as possible as that scenario was with me sitting on a chair) in front of his father, making Max almost lose his balance with the strength of my pull, grabbing tightly onto the edges of the chair, pressing the insides of his wrists against the outsides of my thighs, to prevent the chair from falling over with both of us.

I didn't care about how this might look. I didn't care that my boyfriend's father was right there. I was reacting to a strong pull inside of me. A strong pull to have Max close.

He was pulling me up from the chair by his hands under my arms, his tongue moving heatedly against mine, his gasps mingling with mine and our moans filling the stunned air. My legs naturally locked around his waist and my body pressed tightly up against his chest. Yes, _my body_ did, not necessarily on a command by my mind. Because it felt as if it was moving by its own force.

I had no control.

The explanation hit us both at the same time. Cut through the thick desire that was threatening to implode inside of us, and had our lips separate with a breathless gasp. I'm sure the frantic expression in my eyes matched his as Max got out, "The connection-"

"-is doing this," I filled in, my body trembling from me denying it to fuse my lips with Max again.

Mr. Evans' voice caused us both to freeze and all heat that was swirling through my body rushed to my cheeks as the real world knocked, bearing gifts of chagrin and self-awareness. "Your fields are improving."

I should be used to it by now, but it was still odd to hear the complete absence of nuances to Mr. Evans' voice as he stated his observation as a mere scientific discovery. I wasn't sure if I would have been less or more embarrassed if he'd had the more normal parental reaction to seeing his 16-year-old son basically having his way with his girlfriend right in front of him.

The eyes of that aforementioned 16-year-old never left mine and his arms were tight around my upper body, supporting my weight and matching my trembles.

His thoughts were so loud in my head that it would be impossible to miss his next step.

Without acknowledging his father, Max told him, "Excuse us for five minutes."

Mr. Evans didn't object and I barely noticed his silence as Max nudged me to slide my feet down the back of his legs and make contact with the floor. My body brushing against his with the movement had me almost rupturing from pleasure.

I already knew what was happening.

If Max's suspicions were correct, that is.

Something had happened to me when I had used all that energy to 'play' with my newborn abilities. My energy hadn't been brought back into balance. I might have even shifted the balance within the bond itself.

Now it was guiding us. Guiding us on how to refuel.

I giggled at the thought ( _refuel_ ) as Max pulled on my hand and rushed me across the common room and towards the corridor.

"Max," I breathed, feeling weak, exhilarated, frightened, out of control and ridiculously turned on, as I tried to keep up with his minor race to the bathroom. "What about your father?"

"He doesn't want to see this," Max replied hurriedly, the desire in his body pounding through mine, making that two-faced concoction of pain and relief crumble up my cells and I stumbled as laughter bubbled up in me at Max's reply. At the deadpanned delivery.

But also... This was ridiculous. What was the bond doing to me? Who in their right mind interrupted a meeting with a grown-up (with a _parental figure_ ) to have-

Max barged through the bathroom door, spun my body around the doorframe to the inside by a tug on my hand, making my back impact abruptly with the tiled wall. His hand shot out towards the door and it slammed shut next to me. A brief glowing yellow light flared when he locked us in, before his mouth attacked mine.

I melted against his lips, my knees melting right along; his body pressing me up against the wall the only thing keeping me on my feet. He easily pulled me upwards, coaxing my legs to wrap around the top of his hips, as his teeth grazed my already swollen lips and his hands moved restlessly to my waist to push underneath my sweater.

My hands were shamelessly fumbling with the front of his sweatpants, my heels digging into the top of his firm ass as my feet worked to push his pants down.

The tiled wall was slippery, making me lose the support of my body, until Max pressed me further up against the wall, most likely bruising my back with the contact. Neither Max nor I cared. I didn't even flinch when my head impacted with the hard wall as I threw it backwards in response to the desire erupting from Max attaching his burning lips to the side of my neck.

I noticed the brief pause in Max's assault, of his consciousness making an attempt at swimming up through the thick desire, towards the awareness of my unacknowledged pain, but by then I had gotten his sweatpants down his thighs and was reaching inside the front of his boxers.

All thoughts left his mind as I wrapped my shaking fingers around him and his right hand momentarily stilled against my breast, unconsciously giving it a squeeze as his attention was brought to the actions of my hand.

It was the feeling of slow motion. Of that scene in a movie when water droplets would move so slowly through the air that they would become visible as crystal clear small balls of water. When strands of hair would billow softly from the breaths from a person that it looked like the gentle wings of some exotic bird. When eyes would blink so slowly that they seemed to be struggling against the weight of the eyelashes.

In that moment of suspended stillness, we slowly fell into the consuming darkness of each other's dilated pupils, as our bodies thrummed turbulently with building energy.

In realtime, it was a second before Max agitatedly dropped me to my feet to pull my pants down my legs. They conveniently dropped to the floor and was abandoned in a pile as I was hauled back up along his body, having me naturally clench my now naked thighs around the heated skin of his hips.

Catching my eyes, he kept looking into the depths of my soul as he vigorously captured my lips and, without even the whisper of a pause, thrust inside me. Even though I had known what would happen - could trace his thoughts even through the haze of lust - his movement was so sudden that my gasp bordered on a scream. His mouth inhaled the sounds of my pleasure as he moved inside of me. My back repeatedly slid up and down the wall, the hoodie I was still wearing offering no restraining friction against the slippery smoothness of the tiled wall. My nails raked down his back, dug into his strong back muscles, and my legs trembled with exertion around his hips.

I felt the tightening of the muscles of his behind against my shaking heels, and I knew that he was close. That realization ignited the tingles of the beginning of my own release, heat concentrating at the bottom of my spine and swirling around my pelvis, down my legs and into my toes. Spreading across the point of physical connection between us and seeping into our mental bond.

His pace picked up and he bit down into the top of my exposed shoulder as he searched my hands out, removing them from his back and bringing them up above my head. The consequent stretch of my upper body had me lose the footing on the build-up of gratifying tension inside my very being and I tumbled over the edge.

The screamed expression of his name mingled with his groaned utterance of my name on repeat as he poured into me.

Our release spread like a wildfire inside of us, making it impossible for him to stop moving, to stop making love to me. Together our movements rode out the wave, letting the energy swirl into our systems for several minutes before his hips gradually slowed down against mine and my legs lost their hold on his hips and started to slide down his legs.

But instead of wanting to sink to the floor in sated fatigue, in the after-effect of our intense mutual climax, my body was thrumming with strength and power.

He slowly slid out of me before my feet reached the floor. I took a step forward and pressed our bodies together while I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in the softness of his T-shirt.

It felt weird. It felt odd to be naked from the waist down but restrained by clothes from the waist up. Still floating on the feelings of our joined orgasm, I was hit with the longing to feel the full expanse of his naked skin against mine.

My breaths were too fast, my heart still pumping ferociously from our 'quickie'. I smiled into his chest at the thought. _Quickie._ Another first. Something normal couples did.

Even if I was well aware of whatever had just happened wasn't normal. We had been directed like puppets in a show; the bond being our almighty puppet-master.

"Fuck," Max mumbled above me and I instinctively moved away from my post-coital happiness and tuned into his thoughts.

What I saw made me go ice-cold.

"I didn't think," Max continued, knowing that I had taken notice of his thoughts, "Fuck. I didn't think." His palms, warm and slightly damp, cradled my cheeks, angling my eyes up to his and his amber pools of emotions were tortured as they pierced into my chilled soul. "I'm so sorry. I should have thought. I lost control." He squeezed his eyes tightly closed and pressed his heated forehead against mine. "I can't believe I lost control around you."

"Max," I whispered through lips dry as sandpaper, moving my hands up underneath his T-shirt again. Needing to feel his skin against mine.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay?" he whispered in hurried anguish, mentally briefly stepping back from the most glaring issue which had plowed itself invasively between us.

But I needed his attention back on the pink elephant in the room. He already knew that I was okay. He already knew that I was _more_ than just okay.

"Can't you check if something..." I blushed, "...happened? Like you did last time?"

 _Something_ starting with a 'B' and ending in 'aby'.

We were right back to that. Right back to what had happened the other night. Right back to losing the control over ourselves and not using protection.

How could we be this careless?

Max snapped his hands back from my face and turned away from me so quickly that I stumbled, my body having been leaning into his. He roughly pulled his boxers up over his hips before his hands flew to his head, threading angrily through his hair. The air was thick with the obvious struggle within him to not lose his temper around me. He didn't want to scare me.

If I hadn't been there, he would have slammed his fist into the rock-hard wall.

 _That fucking connection._

The thought was a scream through my head and I trembled. He started pacing the floor as he thought about the connection as a living person. As someone to blame. As if the connection was an evil manipulator who had set us up for this. Who had made us careless. Who probably wanted us to get pregnant so that the alien future was ensured. Or maybe even, to use the babies of our powerful connection as further weapons into some sick dominance over planet Earth.

With his relentless tirade burning through my body, I retrieved my pants from the floor and pulled them back on with trembling hands.

I wasn't even aware of doing it, but my mind tuned his out to be able to form my own thoughts. To make room for my own speculations. Was it true? Was the connection aiming to make us procreate? Was our need to refuel or energies, balance our bodies and strengthen the bond not the sole reason to our insatiable desire for each other? Was the connection actually trying to have us create a baby?

I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle. If it hadn't been for the energy simmering beneath my skin, my body would have sunk to the floor and I most likely would have started crying. I didn't really want to admit it, but Max's reaction was tearing me in all different directions, digging a horrible aching hole in the pit of my stomach.

We were both rational and intelligent people. We knew it wasn't a good idea to become teenage parents. _Especially_ not in our situation. Max's confession to wanting to have children with me (in the future) was still fresh and very much alive in my memory and this should comfort me to not take his poorly restrained aggravation personally.

I wanted to wait just as much as he did. The idea of having a baby right now was as ludicrous as it was foreign and frightening.

But to see him so upset over having possibly impregnated me sought out my deepest insecurities and turned his frustration in sharp bullets aimed at the sense of security which had been placed over our relationship.

He was frustrated to a point of being completely blind to my emotional state. While struggling to get his feelings under control, focusing on not triggering any latent traumatized feelings in me, he barely glanced at me as his strained body bent down to pick up his pants and pull them up over his boxers.

"Come," he said shortly and grabbed my hand, unlocking the door with light glowing from his free hand before the grip of his other hand around mine persuaded me forward.

There was so much I wanted to say to him. I wanted us to talk about this. But his mind was cloaked in a black veil and I doubted that I could reach him.

"Please... Max..." I mumbled, not finding the right words. Not really knowing what to say.

My pleading gained the response of his harsh breathing and we had almost reached the common room as I sharply tugged on our connected hands, causing a flicker of awareness in his mind and his furious steps to slow.

My voice was sharp this time. "Max."

He came to a reluctant stop, his head bent forward with his eyes closed as his shoulders moved slowly up and down with his forcibly controlled breaths.

"Talk to me," I demanded.

His whole body was strained, even his voice. "Not now, Liz."

I frowned. "Yes. Now." Before we got back into the room with his father. Before we started to avoid what had happened. Before we sunk into some kind of state of denial.

"I'm too angry right now," he said, his tone warning. My mood was infected with his anger the second he started to pull his hand away from mine.

Biting my lips together, I tightened my fingers around his, preventing his withdrawal, and walked around his stiff frame to face him.

"Liz..." he cautioned slowly, his barely restrained mood making his voice tremble.

But he didn't scare me. He might think that he had the power to scare me. That I would be afraid that he would hurt me. But I knew differently.

"Whatever you did last time," I breathed, my aggravation making my chest rise and fall quickly with my breaths, "to check that there was no chance of a baby... Why are you not doing that now?"

I couldn't stop the tremble that rushed through me as he lifted his head and connected black eyes with mine. My mouth turned dry and my hands damp.

"Because last time it was a question of checking if I had-" he interrupted himself, a grimace of torment flickering over his face before he raised a finger and slowly traced it down my cheek. His touch was so soft compared to the danger in his eyes.

"It's using us," he said slowly, fire burning from his body into mine. "It's manipulating us. Dragging us along and getting us to follow its lead."

My breath was still in my chest as I listened to the bitter wrath soaked in betrayal coming out of his mouth.

"It's happening all over again." His jaw muscles clenched. "Just like with Sean. With Sarge." His body shuddered as I could feel the rage boiling with the intent to explode inside of him. "It's removing our free will. We're still not free." He tried to inhale a calming breath, but it only caused him to exhale harshly. "From one fucking prison to the next." He pulled his hand out of mine with a snap - the fear brought about from his monologue making me loosen my grip on him - and took one step back from me, as he bit out between clenched teeth. "We will never be free. Don't you see? We will never own the rights to our own lives."

He turned around and breathed tightly, "Fuck," as he threaded his hands through his hair. "Even our children will be manufactured. Born with a predetermined destiny."

I was having trouble breathing as I watched him fall apart in front of me, felt him crush my hopes and fuel a briefly forgotten misery over my role in the alien society.

"It protected us," I whispered. "It protected me against Sean." I pulled in a shaky breath, my fingernails pressing painfully into the palms of my fisted hands. "It has made it possible for me to share your feelings, your thoughts..." I swallowed as I watched the stillness of his back, facing me. "It's helped us with our memories, with our nightmares." I didn't want to fall into his despair. I _couldn't_. The connection couldn't be a bad thing. It couldn't.

I shook my head slowly and croaked, "It's given me strength that I've never-"

He sighed. The sound so abrupt that it cut off what I was about to say.

I was anticipating him to start speaking, but when he didn't say anything I licked my lips and softly added, "Connections aren't bad. You told me so yourself. You told me that connections are the link between aliens to _connect_ them, to make them _feel_ and _care_. You told me it was your race's equivalent of love. How can that be bad? Or manipulative? Or a trap?"

I stared at his broad stiff back, the seconds of silence stretching painfully around us.

"Please, say something," I said quietly.

There was another couple of long seconds before he actually spoke. "I hate this." His voice was low and resigned. "I hate that the only thing I had that would help you - that would keep you safe - is a lie."

I took a step towards him, raising my arms in front of me with the intention of placing them on his back. "It's not a-"

But he turned around before I could touch him. A tear rolled unhindered down my cheek at the torment in his eyes. At the wetness of frustration on his cheeks. At the tightness to his mouth and the lines of worry on his forehead. At the dark and haunted expression in his tired eyes.

He slowly reached forward and took my clenched hands, collecting them in both of his. Pulling the bundle of our hands to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss to the top of my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine, as he whispered, "I need you to tell me the truth."

I searched his eyes for an explanation behind his words, but his mind was still in an upheaval, making it impossible for me to translate his thoughts. "Of course."

He struggled to get the words out, but once they passed his lips they were even and controlled. "Do you want me to let you go?"

I was stunned into momentary silence as I stared at him. It was the increasing fear in his eyes that startled me out of my stupefaction and I stuttered in a mixture of confusion and rawness, "Wh-what?"

"Do you want me to break the connection? To free you of it?"

I felt my whole body grow ice-cold under his probing eyes, my stomach twisting while my heart turned dark with fear.

"There's no need for it any longer," Max continued in the absence of my reply. "At least it won't be. Not after we have brought down Command."

I couldn't answer him. Not when it felt like I was dying.

"There's no Sean. No Sergeant. Soon the traditional rules will be changed. No one is standing in line to use your powers as a gaea."

I couldn't even cry. The tears were frozen in my eyes. My mouth was hanging open, my gaze drying as I forgot to blink. The sound of my slow heartbeat echoed loudly in the hollowness of my chest.

"I'll make sure that you're left alone. That you'll be left to live out your life in peace. A normal human life. I can remove your memories of this whole fucking mess if you-"

My quiet whisper cut him off. "How dare you?"

He pushed his lips tightly together and slowly let our joined hands drift downwards between us. His eyes were closing off at the shocked betrayal he (apparently) could read in mine.

"So just because the connection is removing your control," I uttered throatily, feeling empty and lifeless, "you're willing to just throw all of this away?" I tasted a fresh tear on my lip. "To throw _me_ away?"

"That's not-" he started, anger darkening his features yet again.

But I wasn't done. I inhaled shakily, shaking my head slowly, tears blurring my vision, "I don't even know what to say. I'm..."

I felt so confused. So hurt. This was worse than seeing the look of enjoyment in Sean's eyes as he had tried to rape me.

The one constant in my life, through this 'whole fucking mess' as he had called it, was Max. And now he was pushing me away? After everything? All the torture, every pain felt and endured, every nightmare, every taunt, every whisper, every confession, every secret, every soft caress, every piece of exploding joy, every detail of unconditional love, every look, every glance, every brush of hands, every thought.

Every. Single. Moment.

"I want you to be happy," Max said, cutting into my heart further.

He wanted to turn it into nothing? Non-existent. As if it had never happened. As if the past couple of weeks of feeling the worst and best were to be erased like some kind of mistake.

"And you think this is making me happy?" I demanded, frustratedly wiping tears from my eyes and cheeks. "Do I look happy to you right now?!"

His body was so tense I thought he might snap in two as he whispered, his eyes closed off, "Liz..."

I took a step back, pulling my hands from his, and said hotly, "You want me to tell you the truth?"

He stared at me, not realizing until a second later that I actually needed an answer. Slowly, with a clenched jaw, he nodded.

I fiercely worried my bottom lip, searching for the words. "You are the most important person in my life."

Unexpected heat brushed the walls around his heart and my blurry vision didn't miss the tremble that raced through his taut frame.

"You're the love of my life." I brushed at more tears heating my cheeks. "You're the only thing that keeps me going. Without you..." Pain exploded in my chest at the thought, my whole body assaulted by painful tingles. "I will die without you."

His walls were crumbling in front of me, even when he was struggling to stay collected. Even when he was attempting to provide me with a damn free choice and his fucked up opinion on what was _best_ for me.

"Baby..." he murmured, trying to close the physical gap between us.

His advance was met with my retreat.

"And for you to even suggest to remove my memories..." I whispered, my voice breaking in all the wrong places.

All those beautiful memories. Of him and me. Of us.

"I-" He was fumbling for the words, fumbling to regain control over the situation.

"Do _you_ want to break the connection?" I fired at him, crossing my arms defensively across my aching chest.

"If you want me to, I-"

I interrupted him, my voice growing loud and strong, "No. That's not what I asked. What do _you_ want, Max? You talk of free will; now's your time to use it. Do you want to be free of the connection and free of me?"

My voice tripped on those last three words and my arms tightened around myself. Trying to keep myself together. I tried to tune in to what Isabel had taught me in our yoga exercises. I tried to find my breath and let it calm me down.

"No," was his reply. A simple 'no'.

But it was anything but simple. It was a vehement quiet scream. Squeezed from his deepest and rawest emotions. Ripped from the deepest parts of his being.

Before I had a chance to react, he had closed the distance between us and fused our lips together. I sobbed into his mouth, my tears falling freely as the pressure over my heart eased off. I pulled my arms out from between our bodies and pressed my fingers into his back, flushing our fronts together, needing him close. Needing to make sure that he wouldn't let me go.

The connection, having been dimmed by Max, flared to life like a silent explosion in our bodies and minds, causing Max to pull back. I tightened my grip against his shoulder blades, warning him to get too far away, as he stilled and slowly started wiping the tears off my cheeks.

"Don't ever do that to me again," I warned him, a frightening coldness to my vulnerability.

He looked at me closely, contemplatively, before saying, "We need to know more about this connection."

He hadn't promised. He hadn't assured me that he wouldn't repeat what he had just asked of me.

"Max?" I demanded, boring my eyes into his.

"I won't leave you," he said with firmness. "As long as you want me around, I'll be around."

As if I would ever _not_ want him around. It bothered me that he was still doing this on my premises. That he was not sticking up for himself. I wished he could have demanded that _he_ wanted _me_ around, instead of needing my permission. He was still so afraid to force me and to push life choices on me that I might not want. His fear of limiting my freedom in any way similar to how his society had done was setting him up for a ridiculously careful decision making.

He was still treating me like a China doll. Like I was breakable. Like I wasn't an equal part of a powerful connection.

Looking deeply into his dark eyes, I realized that we could never win this 'war' we were up against as long as he was weighed down by my fragility as a human.

I knew that he could hear my musings, which is why I purposely held his eyes, stating my silent challenge for him to loosen his control and let me stand on my own two feet. But I also knew that he was not ready for that discussion right now. I had already tried it just half an hour ago, so he knew what my opinions were.

For the time being - considering how close he was to exploding - I needed to back off. Give him the space he had given me on more than one occasion.

But before that, I had to point out that he should "Never again suggest that we should break the connect-", but him placing a silencing index finger to the center of my mouth silenced the end to my request.

"We are true even without the connection. It doesn't make us who we are. It doesn't have anything to do with our love. So if I find out that it's somehow hurting us, hurting _you_ , I will do everything in my power to remove it."

I tried to swallow past the dry lump in my throat. I couldn't really argue with that. "Okay."

Max's jaw tensed again, hard-set determination in his eyes. "And I'm sure that dad knows more about this than he's been telling us."

"About...?"

"The connection," Max filled in. He brushed his fingers through my hair, tucking it behind my ears, before adding, "And he's going to tell us."

I silently nodded, hoping that Mr. Evans _would_ tell us. Because I was afraid of what Max might do to him if he didn't.

Max entwined our fingers, the pressure of his palm against mine reassuring, as we walked towards the common room.

Mr. Evans' expression was collected, not diverging from the general impression I had of him, as we walked into the open-spaced room. I'm sure that he had heard our conversation in the hallway. I'm sure that he knew what we had done in the short time we had been away from the room.

But being the alien that he was, cool and lacking that natural string to his emotions, it didn't seem to bother him. If it did, he didn't let it show.

His only comment upon our arrival was, "Your force fields are intact."

Max's fingers flexed around my hand. "Of course they are. We have the connection to thank for that."

Mr. Evans didn't show any reaction to the loathing dripping off the word 'connection', instead leaning back against the backrest of the wooden pin chair and slowly folding his hands over his stomach.

"That is most likely correct," he concurred, causing Max to grow stiff with heated annoyance.

"I'm done with your bullshit," Max seethed and I automatically squeezed his hand, begging him to calm down.

 _Don't pick a fight with him_ , my mind warned him. _He might not be so willing to answer our questions then._

Max scoffed. "I don't care if he's not willing."

I looked up at his profile, saw the coldness etched into the sharp lines of his jaw, and swallowed nervously.

"We're stronger than him, remember?" he was answering me, but his eyes never left the man who had fathered him. "Thanks to the connection, we are stronger than _everyone_."

Mr. Evans didn't move an inch. He sat perfectly still, looking almost peaceful. This only fueled Max's anger, which surprised me. I had known Max to be the cool one. The one that would face adversaries in the exact same collected way that Mr. Evans was doing now. I guess this is where Max got his control from. From his father.

But the Max I was feeling now was losing his control. That impressive control was cracking violently at the seams, threatening to do irreparable damage if completely unhinged.

The one thing that Max had counted on had been the connection. It had tied Max and I together. It had protected me when Max had been unable to. It had made Max feel closer to me, making me a part of his world, of his alienness. Oddly enough, it had made him feel more human.

Which is why his anger right now was not his typical anger. This anger was the result of a deep acidic betrayal. Of feeling tricked and fooled by the one thing that was supposed to be on his side. The one _good_ thing to come out of his heritage.

He was struggling to control this deception, not knowing how to react to it. It was unfamiliar territory. A territory that had even momentarily made him try to push me away just now in order to protect me. Making him believe that I would be better off without him.

It was messing with his head, even messing with the connection itself. The thoughts I was getting from him were no longer clear-cut. They were jumbled and blurry, like looking through ripples of water. I had trouble reading him. I still had not truly gotten used to doing so, but this was different. This must be the connection reacting to Max's animosity towards it. Him turning against it.

"So try and fight us," Max challenged his father darkly. "Go ahead. Refuse us. I'm sure we can break into your mind any way and find out exactly what you've been hiding."

"Max," I gasped, horrified at his threat. He was taking this too far. This was getting out of hand.

But Mr. Evans didn't look upset. He didn't look...anything. Instead he minutely lifted his chin towards the chairs opposite him and said, "Take a seat. I'll show you what I know."

Max hadn't anticipated that. I could tell from the confusion that was making his body lose its tension and how his anger felt interrupted and suddenly misplaced.

"I'm assuming that you are much better at reading her mind than she is at reading yours," Mr. Evans said as we drifted towards the chairs.

Max was suspicious. "Yeah?"

Mr. Evans slowly rose from his chair, lifting it off the floor and placing it next to the one I had just sat down on. Seated next to me, the residing heat from Max's anger was billowing off his body and we both tensed when Mr. Evans came close.

Max's father looked me in the eyes as he took a seat opposite me, our knees almost touching, and I could actually trace how his gaze gradually softened. As if he was putting it on for my benefit, knowing that his defaulted neutral expression would most likely agitate me.

"I will form a superficial connection to you, Liz," Mr. Evans said, his voice matching the gentleness in his eyes. "And Max will be able to view what I'm showing you through your bond."

My heart rate was increasing, the beat growing louder and louder. Sean's and the Sergeant's faces were burning through the retina of my inner eye and I unconsciously reached out and dug my fingers around the top of Max's knee.

Mr. Evans flittered his eyes to Max and Max's voice was dry and tight as he warned, "If you hurt her..."

Mr. Evans held his son's eyes for a second before looking back at my anxious face, leaning in slightly, "I know what they did to you. I know that they put horrible images into your mind. And I can't undo that for you, I'm sorry."

I bit the inside of my cheek while Max pried my fingers away from his knee and transferred my tight grip to his hand.

"I will show you my memories," Mr. Evans continued. "And some of them might be uncomfortable for you, but most are predominately informative. It will, perhaps, help you and Max understand the connection. Maybe it will help you put some pieces together that I myself haven't been able to."

I knew that he wouldn't hurt me. I was more certain of this than Max was, because I would forever remember the strength and the soothing of my pain supplied by him when tending to me in captivity, right after I had hurt Sean. I had seen another side of Philip Evans then and my trust for him had deepened.

It was not Mr. Evans that frightened me. It was the reminder of someone forcing their memories of the torment of my loved ones onto me.

"Will that be okay?" Mr. Evans asked when I remained silent.

"Yes," I gulped, extremely aware of Max's conflicting opinions about this whole thing.

"Why can't you just tell us?" Max asked tensely.

Mr. Evans reached for my free hand, his eyes silently asking for permission to take it, as he answered his son, "I think it's important for you to see it. _Experience_ it. A lot of the details are difficult to describe with words."

I lifted my hand in permission for him to take it. His hand was dry, marked by time and possibly the continuous scrubbing with soap due to the hygienic needs of a doctor. But his pressure against my hand was just as even and secure as Max's.

Being held by both Evans men, I looked at Mr. Evans and gave him a simple nod.

"Okay," Mr. Evans acknowledged.

Gently, he initiated the feeding of the first memory he wanted to show us into our joined minds.


	83. EIGHTY-THREE

_Child of Music and Dreams - Maybe the connection **is** trying to get Max and Liz pregnant... Thank you for the feedback!_

* * *

 **EIGHTY-THREE**

 _Discounting some soft whimpers and the occasional unconscious whine, the babies in the maternity ward were asleep as I entered the room in the afternoon. I nodded a short greeting at Thomas Whitman, who was standing just inside the door, before walking up to the bassinet marked 'Baby Parker'. The newborn was deeply asleep, wrapped up in a white blanket with a small purple-and-pink striped beanie on her head._

 _I paused, hit by the innocence of the small human baby. The baby of our most recent gaea. The whole community was hoping_ _that this newborn_ _would be a gaea too, but it was still too soon to tell._

 _But I didn't have to look too close before something else about her made my heart fly off into a wild gallop._

 _Looking past her lightly parted lips, the relaxed features of her face, and tuning in to the soft breathing sounds she was making in her sleep, I already suspected that she actually_ ** _was_** _a gaea. Just like her mother._

 _But that wasn't the observation that had_ _the skin on_ _my forehead break out into cold sweat. There was something about her aura._

 _Auras matured with age; grew brighter and more vibrant,_ _gradually extending_ _further out from the body. Hence, the auras of practically all babies was a faint white light shimmering about half an inch around the contours of their small bodies._

 _But the Parker girl's aura reminded me of the aura of my own 3-months-old son. Just like his, her area was blinding if you focused directly on it. The innocent white color, representing the pureness of the baby's experiences and feelings, was glowing and billowing far outside_ _of_ _her body._

 _White contains all colors of the rainbow - it_ _'s_ _simple science - and I had always thought it was best represented in the auras of children. In children_ _-_ _where their energies were balanced_ _-_ _equal amounts of all the wavelengths of light created the white glow._

 _Twisting agitation squeezed my stomach. I had only seen this type of aura once in my entire life. Around my own son. Its rarity had only recently been explained to me._

 _And now Nancy Parker's child appeared to have the same one-in-a-billion type of aura._

 _What did this mean? What did it mean for the Parker girl? What did it mean for Max?_

 _"Everything okay, Philip?" Thomas asked behind me._

 _I straightened, brushed off my feelings, and gave the man (who had his own baby on the way) an impassive look. "Of course, Thomas."_

 _Thomas nodded, his face revealing nothing, but his aura revealing plenty. He was suspicious._

 _I found solace in the fact that only healers could see auras in this way. Even if empaths, like Thomas Whitman, read emotions in the vibrations of the air around an individual, they never saw true colors. Consequently, if the similarities of the auras of my own son and the daughter of a gaea_ ** _were_** _of importance, no one else would know about it._

 _I gave the Parker girl a final look, before turning away and walking towards the door. Upon leaving the room, I told Thomas tensely, "Don't let her out of your sight."_

 _"Philip," Thomas objected, confusion blotching his aura brown, "I have to keep an eye on Nancy. I can't stay here-"_

 _"_ _ **I'll** __keep an eye on Nancy," I assured him and nodded towards the baby. "You stay here. She's important, this one."_

Max's father didn't grant us even a second of contemplation over what he had just shown us, instead rushing into the next memory.

As it started to take form, with Diane propped up against the headboard of a bed, with a small child in her arms, I realized that Mr. Evans wasn't necessarily feeding us the memories chronologically.

 _My wife had always liked my father. Maybe it was because of him taking an instant liking to her. Or maybe it was because he was different than the average Antarian. Different than even me. My father was 100% pure Antarian. He was born on the planet of Antar and had been sent to Earth as a 17-year-old. His age put him in a minority on the transport to Earth. Most of the passengers were below the age of 10 upon arrival. It would make more sense for my father to be one of the people most indoctrinated with the Antarian ways and customs than his co-travelers._

 _Oddly enough, however, my father displayed a surprisingly high number of human characteristics. Compared to his younger fellow travelers, George - formerly known by his Antarian name as Asai - displayed a wide range of emotions. His ability to_ ** _feel_** _with his patients, made him into the most successful healer out of the three which had boarded the vessel directed to Earth._

 _My father had been lucky. He had, together with another healer, been on the ship that had successfully landed on the foreign planet. The third healer hadn't been so lucky. Being assigned to travel on the second vessel launched for planet Earth, he had perished when that craft had crashed in the dark desert outside of the small town of Roswell._

 _Sometimes I got the feeling that Diane liked my father more than me. They could understand each other on some human level. I was still struggling to connect with the human emotions on display all around me. It was just easier to not let them affect you during healings. Being objective made it more painless and simple_ _r_ _to focus on the job. This made me into a rather technical healer while my father was more of an emotional healer._

 _My father had never h_ _eld_ _my lack of emotions against me. After all, I was more alien than he was. I was, in that way, more fitted for the Antarian society. I think this is why my father never felt he had the right to scold me when I didn't react in a more appropriate_ ** _human_** _way._

 _Father had taught me everything he knew. That's how the art of healing was passed on. Obviously, the genetic trait was a necessity_ _to heal,_ _but it alone did not mean that one became a healer. One had to comprehend how to utilize it._

 _As I looked down at my newborn son, asleep in the cradle next to our bed, I just realized that I would have to teach_ ** _him_** _some day. A strange constriction squeezed my heart and I swallowed slowly._ ** _My son_ _._**

 _My daughter was cradled in Diane's arms, her tiny hands holding tightly onto the thin towel my wife had placed over her own shoulder, as our daughter was being breastfed. I had been afflicted with an overwhelming emotion ever since I had held my children in my arms the first time. I knew of the concept of love, had experienced it in vague amounts during my upbringing and in my interactions with my wife, but this drowning feeling was different. It was soaking every part of my being, infusing me with not only a much stronger version of love, but also protectiveness and fear. Deep fear. That something would happen_ _to my children. That I might somehow lose them. It was disconcerting; that feeling of loss of control. Of not being able to fully control the lives of others - my own children included._

 _"Are you okay, Phil?"_

 _I looked up from my son's face -_ ** _Max_** _ **,** we were naming him Max - and met the concerned blue eyes of the mother to these wondrous creatures in front of me. These _**_helpless_** _lives which I had just been entrusted with to raise into proper Antari- no,_ ** _humans._** _I wanted them to be human. To blend in with Earth's population. This would be the first step_ _in_ _protecting them._

 _I forced a small smile onto my lips. Purely for her benefit. "I'm fine."_

 _There was a soft knock on the open_ _door into the bedroom, making me instantly tense, before I looked up and saw my father standing in the doorway._

 _I frowned. I hadn't noticed him enter the house. Hadn't even heard him make his way to the bedroom. I really_ ** _was_** _affected by these children. They were already interfering with the stealthy control I exercised over my surroundings._

 _"Knock knock," father said in such a human way that I felt like responding to him with_ _a_ _matching human mannerism. By rolling my eyes._

 _I refrained from this, straightening proudly next to the crib which was holding my sleeping son. "Father."_

 _There was a softness to my father's eyes which always had me perplexed. How he could produce those feelings and transmit them so naturally. Making everyone around him at ease. Well, making every_ ** _human being_** _around him at ease. It had the somewhat opposite effect on Antarians. It made them naturally suspicious, wondering if he was putting on a show to conceal something. If he had a hidden agenda._

 _But father rarely did. He was as good-natured as he appeared._

 _"Hi, George," Diane said softly, discreetly pulling the small face towel down over her exposed breast, covering not only her partial nudity but also the softly rounded cheek of the suckling baby._

 _Father smiled and quietly entered the room, sinking down on the edge of the bed, giving Diane 110% of his attention._

 _I knew that feeling. I knew what it was like to bask in the attention of my father. He rarely looked at me that way, but when he did I felt invincible._

 _"How are you doing, Diane?" he asked gently._

 _Diane smiled and the double-edged pressure of love spread out like a thick heavy blanket over my chest. There was something wistful on her face and it was translating into pure energy around her body, making her literally radiate with energy._

 _"I'm in heaven," she said quietly, looking down at our daughter - Isabel - who had fallen asleep in her arms, with her soft lips still resting against Diane's breast._

 _Father looked up at me, his aura flickering with the momentary flicker of tension, as he questioned, "Did everything go okay? With the birth?"_

 _His concern was real. Heavy. Laced with the memory of his own wife - my mother - and how she had died giving birth to me. How she had died, even when married to a healer. It was no wonder, therefore, that it had taken quite a lot of convincing to not have my father attend the birthing of my children. Diane really liked my father, but she would rather not have her father-in-law attend the delivery itself_ _._

 _My father had been the first one I had called after the birth. I imagined that I could feel his relief over the telephone line when I informed him that everything was okay. That my children had been born without any tragedies._

 _I hadn't gone into any details at the time, just letting my father know that we were okay. Which was probably the reason why my father now - two days post delivery - wanted to_ _acquire_ _some facts._

 _"Actually," I said slowly, hesitating for the last time if I should consult him or not, "There's something I need you to see." But I knew that it was inevitable. He would see it for himself as soon as he laid eyes on Max._

 _Father frowned at me, glancing briefly at Diane, as if he had felt the flicker of insecure apprehension go through her aura. I hadn't told her. She didn't know. But she was good at reading a situation. She was good at reading people. Even closed-off Antarians._

 _"Philip?" Diane asked, a deep line of foreboding marring the space between her eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"_

 _"Give us a second," I told Diane, not missing the feeling of annoyed impatience seeping into my body from her through our connection._

 _Father had already read my intention and gotten to his feet. I gestured towards the small bed with my sleeping son and my father gave me a contemplative look before stepping right up to the crib and peering down at my small offspring._

 _Even though my father was more in tune with his emotions than most purebred Antarians, he didn't wear his feelings on his sleeve. He showed just what he wanted us to see. He could even, to some degree, control his aura._

 _But despite a neutral face, his force field was not controlled when faced with Max's aura._

 _My heart was thrumming harshly in my chest and I realized that it mattered - really mattered - what my father's opinion would be._

 _He was taking too long to answer. I was watching his face closely, almost to the point of giving myself a headache, while father roamed his gaze down the newborn's body._

 _"He's strong," he mumbled after an eternity._

 _I took a deep slow breath. So he saw it too. I wasn't wrong. Something was different about my son._

 _"Yes," I whispered, my inhaled breath trapped in my chest._

 _"I've never..." father started, leaving me teetering desperately and anxiously on the tip of his unspoken words._

 _Father brought his hand down and gently touched his fingers against Max's cheek. Max's aura expanded locally to move out around my father's hand. To gather his grandfather's touch inside that bright light surrounding his young body._

 _The demand for clarification was on the tip of my tongue, but father spoke before it was spoken._

 _"He's a parim." His voice held quiet reverence in a way I had never heard his voice before._

 _"What are you saying?" Diane asked, reminding me of her strong fear and uncertainty trying to smother me through the bond. "What's happening? Is something wrong? Is something wrong with Max?"_

 _Our backs were turned to her, our voices naturally hushed. I knew that the hinted symbolism of us cutting her out from what was happening was making her want to crawl out of her skin._

 _I ignored her. Right now, needing to understand what was going on with my son (and my father seemed to have some answers) took precedent over my wife's anxiety. "What is that? What's a parim?"_

 _"Parim?" Diane questioned, and slightly annoyed at her interruption - which had my father turn away from the bed to focus on her - I mimicked my father's movement and we both came to stand at the foot of the bed._

 _I took in the s_ _eedy_ _colors of concern in her aura, the flush of fear reddening her cheeks, the glistening sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. I hadn't meant to make her worry. If she could just wait for another second to get an expla-_

 _"Your son is very special," father said calmly, giving me a meaningful look. The look of understanding between two men who were aware of that they had just witnessed something out of the ordinary._

 _She frowned. "Of course he is."_

 _"No." I shook my head impatiently. "His energy is different."_

 _I had told her about energies. About force fields and auras. I had briefly informed her of how I interpreted them and how I used the variations in the colors to guide me in diagnostics and in treatment._

 _But right now, her confusion resonated with my own. Right now, I didn't have any answers._

 _"Max is a pure soul," father said, moving his steady gaze between my face and Diane's. "In our culture it's called_ ** _parim_** _."_

 _Diane's reaction was complete fear as she whispered, "What does that mean?", while my initial reaction was anger._

 _Why didn't I know about this?_

 _Father licked his lips, before slowly replying. "It's something I've been told as a young boy. Almost like a mythical story. Rather similar to your story about Jesus. Just like there might be some truth to the life of Jesus, there might have been some truth to the story of parims. But I was always_ _under_ _the impression that it was hearsay." He licked his lips again and cleared his throat. "Um, fairytales. Yes, fairytales is a better description."_

 _"Yes, father." I waved my hand impatiently for him to continue. "We understand the premise. Now, what is it?"_

 _Father looked between myself and Diane again. Slowly. I got the feeling that he was trying to get the words right. Carefully choosing his words. "It's pure energy. A soul that has lived several times before; learning and developing, gathering energy. A soul made out of pure_ ** _clean_** _energy that is not constricted by bodily vessels or minds."_

 _My mind was swirling. Humans had the concept of 'old souls'. They had various religions which to different degrees described self fulfillment and self actualization. Purifications of souls, in a way._

 _But I had a feeling that my father was describing something else. Something far beyond that._

 _"If left untainted, parims have an inner peace that give them the power to do anything they set out to do."_

 _"What do you mean with 'untainted'?" Diane asked and I was surprised that she could find the words._

 _I couldn't._

 _"Tainted by society. Culture. Norms. Relationships. Matters that clutter the mind. Disturb the soul. Stain the purity."_

 _"And..." Diane swallowed. "You're saying that Max is that? A pa-" She frowned, tasting the word. "A parim?"_

 _"His aura is very unusual for that of a child. Actually, for anyone."_

 _Diane looked at me, her confusion about my silence clear through our bond. "Is this dangerous? What does this mean?" Her eyes widened with the demand for an explanation. "Philip?"_

 _I shook my head slowly, looking silently to my father for answers_.

 _"As I mentioned, parims belongs to tales of fiction. They don't exist. At least..." he paused, glancing over at the crib holding my sleeping son, "At least that's what I believed up until now."_

 _"What does this mean for Max?" I asked, my voice hoarse and sounding disturbingly unused._

 _"If his energy is properly nurtured, he'll become a very important man," my father responded cautiously. "As you humans say: the sky is the limit."_

 _He attempted to smile, but even with my father's usually well-choreographed emotional facial play, he failed to pull it off._

 _"But it's not dangerous?" Diane prodded. "All that energy? Is not dangerous to him, is it?"_

 _Father slowly shook his head. "No. The energy is not the least dangerous to him. But the knowledge of that energy - of who he is - is dangerous. It would be tempting to take control of him. To use that power. To shape him into someone that could be used in the wrong way were his allegiances to fall to the wrong people." He slowly licked his lips again, straightening. "Max will thrive with free will. To follow his heart. To follow the path of his energy. For parims - at least according to the stories - it's dangerous to force them into molds. To attempt to control them. Their souls are strong, but can nevertheless be easily destroyed. At least the purity of their energy can be destroyed. The thing that makes them into parims."_

 _"Philip..." Diane whispered and I got my feet moving in response to her deep fear, grabbing the hand she was holding out for me in a quiet desperate request for consolation. I squeezed her hand tightly in mine, feeling the clamminess of her angst on her skin, as I sank down on the edge of the bed._

 _"You can't tell anyone about this, Philip," my father said, his eyes dark with seriousness and concern. "No one is to know his true nature."_

 _Father slowly walked up to the crib and I watched him as he quietly observed Max._

 _Softly, as if speaking to himself, he added, "And unfortunately, in order to protect him, you have to raise him normally. With the risk of tainting his soul. But hoping that he will grow strong in light of this, until he is strong enough to stand on his own two feet."_

* * *

 **A/N: Yes. Sorry. That was the end of the chapter, even though it was a bit abrupt. The dive into Philip Evans' mind will continue in the next chapter :-) Thank you so much for your support and for reading!**


	84. EIGHTY-FOUR

_Child of Music and Dreams - Thank you :D_

 _Niko8 - Oh my... Thank you **so much** for your comment. Made my day :-)_

* * *

 **EIGHTY-FOUR**

I inhaled shakily, overwhelmed with the knowledge Max's father was supplying. Overwhelmed with Max's reactions to this knowledge. I could tell that he was trying to block it from me, but it must be too much even for him. His reactions were flowing over, blending with mine. Accentuating and emphasizing.

He hadn't know this either. His own father had never told him that he was - nothing short of - a miracle.

That there was a suspicion that _I_ was the same.

"She needs a break," Max whispered tightly next to me.

I'm not sure who was squeezing whose hand. But the grip was tight.

I felt Max's intense gaze on my profile as he asked, "Do you need a break?"

I slowly shook my head, a trembling breath rattling over my dry lips. "No..." I swallowed. "No."

I lightly cleared my throat, but it did nothing to dissolve the lump in my chest, before I looked over at him.

I almost started crying at the sight of him. I could see the trembles in his body, threatening to break him apart if he gave in just a little bit. It was not that difficult to reach the realization that _he_ was the one needing a break.

"Do you?" I whispered.

He fervently shook his head, his dark turbulent eyes locked with mine and his lips tight with tension. "No. Not unless you do."

An amused breathy laugh drifted from somewhere deep inside of me. In essence, we both needed a break, but neither of us were prepared to admit it. Both of us needed more.

I searched his open eyes, floating on the violent waves of his emotions through the strong link between our minds, and said quietly, "Let's continue."

He nodded, lifting my knuckles to his lips. The touch of his lips was cool, so wrong compared to the heat he normally surrounded us with. I had time to frown in bothered concern about this before Mr. Evans wordlessly started feeding our minds with his next memory.

 _I didn't like this one bit. I didn't like that Sarge was dragging my family into his gaea business. And I certainly didn't like that Sarge had taken Nancy while she had Elizabeth with her. Had_ _ **used**_ _Nancy when her daughter had been with her._

 _I caught Diane by the elbow as I was about to exit the kitchen. Her emotions slammed into me at the contact. She was worried. Afraid for our children. Afraid for Nancy. She had never seen how gaeas were treated before. I had purposely shielded her from that aspect of my heritage._

 _"Keep Max and Isabel upstairs," I told her sharply. It was not my intention to add to her fear, but due to the physical link between my hand and her elbow, I was immediately informed of how my tone of voice had affected her. I forced my anger at the situation back, pecked her softly on the cheek, before adding, "Keep them safe."_

 _Her eyes were wide, her feelings all over the place, as she nodded her wordless assent._

 _With one final look at my young wife, I left the kitchen and followed the loud voices into the living room. Where Nancy was more or less back to her normal self after being energized by me. Which was the reason why Sarge was here to start with. He had taken too much of her energy._

 _He was becoming too careless about how much he took. Too greedy. Which was yet another thing that was really starting to bug me. His disrespect for the system set in place to protect the mental and physical stability of the gaeas was, at best, worrying. His disrespect for the human being was dangerous._

 _Nancy had retreated to a corner, angling her young daughter behind her, a fierce determination in her stance and fire in her eyes as she stared Steven down._

 _Her voice was a sneer, a warning hiss, "Leave her alone. She's just a child."_

 _I could only assume that Sarge had attempted to erase young Elizabeth's mind of what had just transpired after I had left the room to find Diane. To remove her memories of the contact with Sarge, of the weakness of her mother, of the healing I had just performed._

 _Nancy's eyes flickered towards me and I could see the fear intensify around her. My presence just inside the door was making her feel even more trapped, literally backed up into the corner she had gravitated towards._

 _Not enjoying this cat-and-mouse game the least, I moved away from the entrance - towards Sarge - my eyes on the small child as her whisper was just as loud as children's whispers generally were._

 _"Mommy, let's go."_

 _Sarge tensed next to me, growling, "Then you shouldn't have brought her here, Nancy."_

 _I watched Elizabeth shrink behind her mother's leg, her aura pulsating with a sickly grey color. I had never seen it like that before. Not even when I had visited her at her home, taking her blood. My instinct was telling me to walk straight up to the child and remove her from her mother, so that her mind could be quickly erased, instead of the child continuing to be frightened by the circumstances._

 _I kept my eyes on the child as Nancy bit acidly, "You didn't really give me much choice, did you?" Elizabeth tried to melt into Nancy's pants as Nancy added, her voice turning pleading, "She's too young to remember. I'll explain it to her."_

 _Sarge laughed and I inhaled deeply. What the hell was up with all this taunting? What did Sarge get out of it? Out of all the human feelings to pick up, Sarge had decided to add sarcasm and anger to his repertoire._

 _I had the sudden itch to clap my hands loudly - like some overexcited human school teacher attempting to regain the attention of a class of disobedient students - and interrupt both the emotions and the conversation. To get things to move on._

 _Nancy needed to have her mind erased. Elizabeth needed to have her mind erased. That was it. End of story. No need to make Nancy feel horrible in the meantime. No need to prolong it. It was not as if Sarge would be convinced. By law, he had no right to go along with Nancy's plea and_ _ **not**_ _erase her memories of the most recent event. So why was he letting this go on? He was making this personal._

 _ **Idiot**_ _, I grumbled silently to myself._

 _But I was in no position to interrupt. He had a higher rank._

 _The man with the higher rank, but obviously the lower intelligence, said, "You talk like you have a say in this. When did you_ _ **ever**_ _have a say in this?"_

 _Nancy's aura flickered threateningly (if only Sarge could see it; it might have made him reconsider the game he was playing) as she exploded, "I have a say in what happens to my daughter!"_

 _I watched the young girl jump as Nancy brushed an upset hand over her daughter's head in an attempt to comfort Elizabeth in light of Nancy's display of anger._

 _"You're only postponing the inevitable," I told Nancy, hoping that she would give in. Make this short. So that she could go on with her life and we could go on with ours. But of course, her past memories were continuously erased - by us - so it was no wonder that she didn't know that it was always more efficient to just let us have our way._

 _Nancy had always resisted us. At least the times that I had been present. She was not one to submit, which she deserved some respect for. Even if she didn't get it. But she had never stood her ground as firmly as she did right now._

 _Maybe it was because of her daughter. Because her daughter was threatened._

 _As if to confirm this, Nancy broke eye contact with her 'enemies' and bent down towards Elizabeth._

 _Elizabeth's voice was as clear as it was fearful. "Why are you crying, Mommy?"_

 _Nancy was better at keeping her voice down, making it hard for me to discern what she was saying. I could feel the anger vibrate off Sarge next to me, pulsating hotly against my body. Any second now, he would explode. I was sure of it._

 _"When I was a hero," I heard the girl whisper loudly and saw the small smile on Nancy's face._

 _She told her daughter something and I could see the extreme fear across the girl's face. If Nancy was trying to comfort her daughter, she was doing a terrible job._

 _Sarge snorted as Nancy kissed Elizabeth on the forehead. "How nice. It's just a wipe, Nance. No need to make such a big deal out of it."_

 _Nancy straightened and looked at us, moving her eyes between us, a clear challenge in her eyes. "Do you even know what those things do to a developing child's brain?"_

 _ **If you only knew how many times I've erased your daughter's mind,**_ _I thought._

 _I just had time to finish the thought as Elizabeth made a run for the door. I sighed out my frustration at how this scenario was developing. If only Sarge hadn't messed around so much._

 _"Really?" I breathed, bored with the whole situation, my mind momentarily flittering to my own children. Hoping that they were being kept away._

 _I looked at Sarge, wondering if he was going to do something about this (because I really didn't feel up to terrorizing a child today), but as I did commotion at the door attracted my attention and had instant anger blaze down my spine._

 _Nancy's daughter had fallen over. Fallen over my son. Who - for some reason - was downstairs, where he definitely shouldn't be._

 _I locked eyes with my perceptive son and I barely managed to control my voice as I ordered, "Max, get out of here."_

 _Instead of following my order, Max turned his eyes to Elizabeth and he was looking at her rather intently as she moved to hide behind him._

 _Seeing them so close to each other, made my heart beat faster. Made adrenaline shoot hotly into every corner of my being. Because their undeniable auras were melting into each other. I had never seen auras lose their integrity like that, disintegrate and blend with someone standing close._

 _And to be honest, it was scaring the crap out of me. If it hadn't frozen me to the spot, I would have stalked forward and ripped my son away from her._

 _Instead I stood watching, paralyzed, as Elizabeth's aura brightened and grew stronger as it lost the dark colors from the ongoing conflict around her and bloomed with warm colors._

 _Instead of interrupting whatever might be happening, I was numb as I watched Max look over his shoulder at the hiding girl, and I heard them talk to each other._

 _I exhaled, pushing my immobilizing emotions to the most hidden corners of my mind, and said, "Maxwell, bring her over here."_ _ **And then get the hell away from her.**_

 _I was afraid that whatever I had suspected the first time I had seen Elizabeth, when she had only been a couple of hours old, would reveal itself right now. In front of Sarge._

 _I couldn't pull my eyes away from my son to even look at Sarge and find out why he wasn't doing anything. Why_ _ **he**_ _wasn't interrupting this. Was he, somehow, anticipating something to happen as well and choosing to wait it out?_

 _"Why?" Max demanded and for a second I was proud of the strength I saw in him. A side I had never seen before in my cautious and modest son._

 _Elizabeth stepped up closer to my son and their auras simultaneously flickered and brightened, before she tugged him backwards, into the hallway._

 _Fear chilled me and I fought to control my voice when I said, "You are to do what you are told, Maxwell." My body had started to leave its state of semi-shock, but still I refrained from moving towards them. I had a feeling that my approach would make Elizabeth run. That it would make even my son run. I had the strongest feeling that Max would follow Elizabeth, even if it meant that he would go against my command._

 _"You were hurting her mommy," Max continued, looking to me for answers. There was distrust in his eyes, confusion at my involvement in this. "Why?"_

 _Obviously, my decision to coax him towards me, instead of scaring him away, was not working. So I resigned to a "Damn it," and directed hasty steps towards the children._

 _As if in slow motion, I saw the colors surrounding Max's right arm grow stronger and more vibrant and realized that Elizabeth's hand was searching for Max's._

 _A curse fluttered over my lips as Elizabeth found Max's hand, enveloping them in a bright white light._

 _"What the-?" Sarge grumbled behind me just the fraction of a second before I saw both my son and the daughter of our gaea collapsing to the floor._

 _I reached Max just as Sarge reached out for Elizabeth, separating the children with a sharp tug. I hauled Max's limp body up in my arms, grabbing his chin and shaking his head from side to side as I commended, "Max! Wake up!"_

 _"Don't touch her!" Nancy screamed from behind us, reaching for her daughter in Sarge's arms, while Diane gasped a "Oh my God," from her position in the hallway._

 _With the unconscious weight of my own flesh and blood in my arms, I couldn't contain my anger. "You were supposed to keep him out of here!"_

 _Despite me yelling at her, my wife didn't shy back._

 _Instead her eyes burned with tears as she closed the distance between us and grabbed her son's limp hand. "What happened?"_

 _I turned away from her, making her stumble after me while still attached to Max's hand, and snapped, "Something bad, okay?"_

 _Nancy was screaming amongst sounds of struggle behind me, but I couldn't focus on her. I was moving my hand down the front of my son's chest, trailing the meridians of his body, the lines of energy. To my surprise, there was no disruption of energy, no drainage. Which was usually found in unconscious individuals. Instead his body was on overload - buzzing with an overload of power._

 _Nancy's screams were abruptly cut off and I briefly glanced in her direction to see her back pressed to the floor, Sarge straddling her body. Antarian eyes locked with the wide-opened ones of a paralyzed gaea._

 _Sarge usually worked quickly; Her memory would be gone in no time._

 _I noted the unconscious girl lying in an abandoned bundle next to Sarge and Nancy. Automatically, I read her aura to make sure that she was still alive. Barely wasting any time to take comfort in that she was, I returned my attention to my wife - who was slowly becoming more and more frantic - and my unresponsive son_.

 _"Max," I called for his attention yet again. I didn't know what to do. There was nothing physically wrong with him. In fact, considering the amount of energy coursing through him, he should be at the top of the world right now._

 _Rather, the excess of energy appeared to have zapped his system._

 _"Connect with him," Diane whispered harshly, being admonishing in her desperation. "Heal him."_

 _I looked at her coldly. "There's nothing to heal."_ _ **Don't tell me how to do this, woman.**_ _Giving him_ _ **more**_ _energy now - which was what a healing did - could be disastrous._

 _She ignored my insulting behavior and snapped anxiously, "What do you mean? He's not waking up! There's something wrong with him!"_

 _"Philip!" Sarge barked, still staring into Nancy's empty eyes. "Take care of the girl! Erase her memory."_

 _I felt like wiping that command off his lips in a very violent way._ _ **Erase her mind?**_ _Couldn't he see that she was unconscious?_

 _But I had no other choice but to obey. I handed Max over to Diane, who was looking at the small girl now as well. Diane had failed to see that Nancy's daughter was in the same state as her son; her maternal concern for Max having obliterated everything else around her._

 _I kneeled next to the dark-haired girl, took notice of the gentle rise and fall of her chest with every breath and saw past the bright white light surrounding her._

 _"Eliz-" I started, in the gentlest tone I could manage, before I realized that she was usually not called that and changed to, "Liz? Liz? Time to wake up."_

 _But she remained as unresponsive as my son. Not moving a muscle. I heard a soft whimper from the place where I had left Max with Diane and started to rise from my seat as Diane confirmed what I was hoping for, "He's waking up. He's waking up."_

 _"Good," I said evenly and returned my attention to the girl. Now, let's hope that the human girl hadn't been damaged somehow. Let's hope that she would wake up soon as well._

 _As long as she had her eyes closed, I couldn't form a deep connection with her, to heal her systemically. Usually, if that was the case, I would heal superficial injuries first which generally would supply the body with enough energy to bring the individual back to consciousness. From there, I could acquire a deep connection._

 _But similarly to Max, the energy was strong in the girl, and I didn't want to supply her with any more._

 _"What happened?" Nancy mumbled, confused, in her recumbent position just a few feet away from me._

 _Sarge was offering his hand to Nancy to help her up. "How are you feeling, Nancy?"_

 _I had to give it to him; Sarge was a good actor. He was like the perfect gentleman. The perfect gentle ex-boyfriend of Nancy._

 _She tentatively, with bewilderment etched into her wide wavering eyes, accepted his help and let him pull her to her feet._

 _"You fainted," Sarge explained gently and gestured towards me and Elizabeth. "Your daughter wasn't feeling very well, which must have been too much for you."_

 _"Oh my God," Nancy whispered as her eyes fell on the lifeless shape of her daughter._

 _"Did you eat something bad?" I asked as she stumbled towards me, her eyes gleaming with tears as she sank to her knees next to Elizabeth. "I'm suspecting food poisoning, since you've both became unwell."_

 _"Mom?" Max piped up, disoriented, and I discreetly looked over my shoulder at my wife. Our eyes met and she got the silent message delivered by my eyes for her to leave the room with Max._

 _It would be very hard for me to explain to Nancy why Max was feeling bad as well._

 _Fortunately, Nancy was too preoccupied with cradling her child in her arms to notice my son._

 _"Is she okay?" Nancy whispered, brushing her hand against the fringe covering Elizabeth's forehead._

 _"She's going to be fine," I replied stoically. At least, she would be. One way or the other. It might require another mind wipe if I had to heal Elizabeth, but I was hoping that she would wake up just like my son._

 _Nancy turned worried eyes to me, looking at me as if I was her savior. "Dr. Evans... Where are we?"_

 _I put a comforting hand on her arm. "You're at my house. You happened to cross paths with Steven when Elizabeth was starting to feel sick. He took you here. She fainted and so did you."_

 _Nancy frowned. "That's so..." She shook her head in lost contemplation. "I don't remember that. How come I don't remember that?"_

 _"Food poisoning does nasty things to a body, doesn't it?" Sarge said, fake concern in his voice, as he asked for my collaboration to this suggestion._

 _"Yes," I agreed and looked down at the unconscious child in Nancy's arms. "I just want to take some blood from her. Is that okay?"_

 _Nancy nodded mutely, before breathlessly agreeing, "Yes. Yes, of course. Do what you have to, Doctor."_

 _"I'm gonna-" I gently pulled Elizabeth from Nancy's arms, ignoring the slight resistance I felt in Nancy's arms at the implied separation, "-borrow her for a little while."_

 _She frowned. "No, I want to come with."_

 _"I'm trying to keep my medical room as clean as possible-" I started and was interrupted by Sarge's quiet laugh._

 _"Yeah, Nance. Don't worry. He's really meticulous about that room."_

 _Nancy was flickering unsure eyes between the both of us and I forced a smile on my lips. "I'm afraid he's right. It's to prevent cross-contamination."_

 _She hesitated. "Will it take long?"_

 _I shook my head. "No."_ _ **I hope not.**_

 _And so Nancy Parker put the care of her child in my hands along with her child. It affected me more than it should, but I had to make sure that whatever might have happened between Max and Elizabeth was removed before I could let Elizabeth go home with her mother._

I jolted, sharply pulling away from Mr. Evans' touch.

I couldn't take any more. My chest was constricting painfully, my head was pounding, the blood in my veins was boiling.

Max was already reaching for me as I turned to him, breath stuck in my throat, eyes wild with emotions drowning in tears.

"Block," I wheezed as his fingers crawled up my throat to cradle my face. I squeezed my eyes shut against his eyes.

Too much. It was too much.

This time, it never crossed my mind to block him myself. I never consciously reflected over how I seemed to have learned to not ever expose Max again to not being able to feel and read me.

It didn't take much more than that. On my desperate command, Max slammed his walls down around his mind, silencing his fervent input into my mind. I don't know where he found the strength to, considering his troubles at silencing himself earlier.

But maybe me falling apart in front of him was motivation enough.

"Liz?" he asked tightly, hurriedly, as I fumbled to get off the chair, away from them both.

My head already felt lighter without Max's staggering feelings and antagonistic thoughts being steamrolled into my mind, but my heart felt increasingly heavier with every passing second. Even as I was tripping off the chair, landing in a pathetic mass of limbs on the floor, attempting to put some distance between me and the aliens, an intuitive burning need in me wanted me to get back to my feet and fall into Max's arms.

I sobbed as I pulled my legs up under my trembling body, not caring that I must look like a broken mess whilst attempted to get back to my feet.

"Go to her," I heard Mr. Evans tell his son.

My breath hitched with both hope and despair at the suggestion.

I was blind to Max's thought processes, yet again, but I knew him well enough to know that he had already been planning to do what his father had just proposed.

Lowering himself to the floor and scooting over towards me, I flinched as he wrapped his arms around me. A deep sense of comfort and love lit my body at the solidity of his arms, while my heart was beating with frantic distress within my constricted chest.

"Shh," he hushed, his lips brushing against the top of my hair, his right knee pressing into my waist and his left against my thigh, his chest molded to my back.

I didn't pull away. Instead I tried to listen to the voice of my heart. Because I knew, deep down, that he was my comfort. That he was the only one that could ease the overload on my brain. Even though a primal need for self-preservation was begging me to get away. To go and lock myself up in that white-tiled bathroom.

My body was tense and tight in his arms. The silence of the room was deafening while soothing. The silence of my mind was peaceful while lonely.

"Is it better?" he asked quietly when my body started to relax. "Without my..." He took a deep breath and tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, "Without my mind?"

I tightly fused my upper eyelids to my lower and tried to mentally get back online. What had caused that reaction? It was just information. There hadn't been any threats. Also, it was mostly information about Max.

His mind was invisible to me, but he could still read mine as brightly as the most glaring day.

"Your mom," he whispered, reflexively tightening his arms around my fragile body.

His ability to directly search out the source to my reaction caused my throat to tighten and a fresh sob burned through my lungs.

"I was afraid that memory might-" Mr. Evans started. His voice sounded far away. Far outside of the bubble surrounding Max and I.

Max tensed. "Don't." He sounded tired, resigned and - confusingly - indecisive. "Please, don't."

I grabbed onto Max's hands and brought the backs of his hands up to my lowered head, brushing them against my cheek. He placed a kiss behind my ear and I focused on the sound of his breaths, gently causing the loose strands to flutter against the side of my face.

I wondered what he was feeling. If his opinions of his father had started to change and begun to chip away at what he had spent his life knowing. Was his world changing? Did it frighten him?

"It's not better," I stated softly.

He pressed his lips to the side of my neck and I felt every line of his lips as he asked, "Can I do something for you? Get you some water? Take you away from here? Kill my father?"

I couldn't help but smile at this. Because I knew that he was joking with his last suggestion, even though I could sense some truth to it. I could sense it from the protectiveness in his embrace.

In his opinion, his father had caused me pain. And that was not allowed.

"I meant," I pressed a kiss to his hands that I was still pressing against my cheek, "It's not better without you in my mind."

He stilled, his breaths ceasing, but his hold on me remaining strong. There was a couple of seconds of silence, before he asked, "You sure?"

"I freaked out," I admitted, swallowing back a fresh batch of threatening tears. "I didn't mean to react like that-"

"Liz, it's-"

"No," I interrupted. "It's not okay. I can't ask of you to be completely open with me," his arms trembled against my chest as the memory of him letting go - of being completely _open_ with me just hours earlier - heated my mind and body, "if I myself try to hide at the first hint of something uncomfortable."

"That was more than uncomfor-" Max objected, but I interrupted him again.

"I need to see that you're okay." My voice sounded a lot more vulnerable and exposed than I had intended.

Another lengthy pause transpired between us, before he agreed in a hushed whisper, "Okay," and unblocked his mind.


	85. EIGHTY-FIVE

_A/N: Hi everyone! So so so sorry about the long wait for this update. I got confused, thinking that I'd updated, but obviously I hadn't. So... Here's three chapters to get you up to speed._

 _xx_  
 _Jo_

* * *

 _Child of Music and Dreams - Thank you :-)_

* * *

 **EIGHTY-FIVE**

At first, there was only me. His concern for me was overriding everything else. I felt myself sink into him, my body finally relaxing against his front, an unhindered sigh crossing my lips.

When he started to realize that I was okay, that I was slowly regaining some peace, other things started to stir beneath the surface of his consciousness. And little by little, it became very clear to me that he was in shock.

His thoughts and feelings lacked their normal structure. They were unanchored, leaving his mind as soon as they had arrived. Things were making sense to him, childhood events were being explained. But simultaneously, nothing made sense any longer. He was untethered, floating aimlessly in this large silent space where his reality had been desperately compromised.

I recognized parts of his feelings and was familiar with certain aspects of his thoughts. It was what I had been feeling when I found out about the existence of aliens. When I had found out that the boy I was falling in love with was not entirely human. When some of the more basic rules of life had been shaken and altered. Granted, it had all been muffled by the death of my mom and everything going on around us, but the core of his emotions was like an eerie reproduction of my own.

Which is why I instinctively knew that I needed to get him out of there.

I shuffled in his embrace, pushing my legs underneath me, softly removing his arms from my waist while holding onto one of his strong wrists while I got to my feet.

"Come," I asked him, looking down into his eyes heated with the color of amber.

He knew that I needed us to go outside, but his absent long look in his father's direction also informed me that he needed more answers. That he needed to know more now. His father had opened a can of worms and Max wanted to inspect them in detail under a microscope.

"Go," Mr. Evans agreed in the spotlight of my boyfriend's flickering gaze.

"We need a break," I said, catching Max's eyes as he looked back up at me. "We need some fresh air."

There was a subtle twitch to his eye, bubbling frustration brushing the fringes of our bond, as he hesitated. He was already considering blocking me from this. That he alone would be the recipient to his father's memories, without the risk of hurting me further. So that he could stay behind and get more information from his father.

My heart fluttered with the brief sting of pain as he, almost as by routine, kept reverting back to him feeling like keeping me in the dark was the best way to protect me.

I forced the pain to the side and smiled at Max softly, my own tears from Mr. Evans' memory of my mother still drying on my cheeks. "Humor me."

"I'll be here when you get back," Mr. Evans promised. I wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Evans was actually reading the situation - and Max's hesitancy - with sharp accuracy. Especially after having seen into Mr. Evans' mind.

Mr. Evans' promise broke through Max's hesitation and Max got to his feet, looping his arm around my waist and placed a kiss to my temple as he pulled me into his side. "Let's go."

Max had called it _diversion_. The act of hiding what you were really thinking behind disguising thoughts. He had said that it was difficult to do properly, but had also hinted to it being the light version of blocking. Which I had already succeeded in doing.

If I had been hiding my true intentions behind words, it would have been called a white lie. Being at the mercy of the bond (which enabled him to read my intentions even when I didn't say them out loud) hiding something from him was a bit more tricky.

So maybe it _was_ actually diversion when I concentrated on busying my mind around an innocent interest in learning how to use energy blasts. Maybe it _was_ a diversion to shove my true motive - of wanting him to _react_ to everything that was going on inside of him right now - to the most obscure corners of my mind, because I feared that he would bottle it up inside of him otherwise.

And I think I was doing a rather good job at that 'diversion' thing, judging by the odd look Max gave me when I - as soon as we got outside of the hostel - asked him to blast a large rock to pieces.

My request had halted his concern for me, had confused his plan to just take a few breaths of fresh air to oblige my request to go outside, before he would deposit me in the care of either Isabel or Alex before returning to his father to get his hands on the rest of the information Mr. Evans might possess about our connection.

Not surprisingly, his immediate reaction was annoyance, which was slowly transforming into anger as his eyes narrowed in response to my poorly chosen time to learn to use energy blasts. He was - right in front of my eyes - getting so worked up that his body was starting to tremble. Clearly, there was a lot of other things going on in his mind right now, because he wouldn't react to such a request quite so radically otherwise. Of that, I was rather sure.

His features were dark in the meager light of the early morning. Not even the moon was out to offer any light. Dark grey clouds obscured the morning glow as I watched the darkness of Max's features gradually come to match the darkness of the sky.

"Liz," he said slowly, taking a step back from me. "Now is not the ti-"

I forced a smile on my face, concentrating on the mental facade obscuring my real thoughts. "There's never a good time to do this, Max." I licked my lips as I paused hesitantly. "But don't you think it would be good for me to know how to use blasts? We don't know how much longer we have until we have to go out into battle."

He was searching my face, searching my mind, the frown between his eyebrows turning deeper.

With a deep sigh, he breathed the concentration out of his body and said, "Let's just calm down a bit and then go back inside." Hardness twitched in the corners of his mouth, "I'm sure dad has a lot more secrets to tell."

My eyes traced down his controlled profile as he looked out over the scenery. A storm was coming. You could feel it in the air. It was buzzing with electricity, making the small hairs on my arms tingle. It made me feel at peace, somehow. As if it was a comfort that nature was mimicking our moods.

Well, Max's mood.

For some reason, I was perfectly calm. My focus was 100% on getting Max out of the state he was in. It prevented me from focusing on myself, on what the revelation about parims might mean for me. Discounting how reliving the presence of my mother - and her protectiveness and love towards my younger self - through Mr. Evans' mind had touched on that panic inside of me again, the whole confusing topic of parims did not touch me half as much as it should. Maybe it was because I had already been landed the biggest bomb (the existence of aliens), making other revelations about certain oddities in my own self barely ruffle me.

I pulled a deep silent breath into my lungs and closed the distance he had created between our bodies. Brushing both of my hands down his left arm, I lifted to the tip of my shoes and brushed my lips against the skin just in front of his ear, whispering, "Please?" The reluctance in him made his body stiff and had me resort to a low blow, "I need to be able to protect myself."

I pulled back to catch his eyes drifting closed, struggling with himself, before he mumbled harshly, "Get back."

Immediately, I took a step back. His hard words had my blood freeze and I looked at him cautiously.

But before I could retreat too far from him he had captured my hand, his hold moving my diverted eyes up to his in surprise.

His apologetic gaze was burning into me intensely, creating smoldering contrast to his dark emotions. "I didn't mean it like that."

How easily he could make my heart ache. The power he had to make me feel invincible, but also to make me feel uncertain and out of my depth.

And he was already hating himself for it as his voice softened along with his penetrating look, "I don't want you to get hurt. I'm not-" his hand tightened around mine with his strained inhalation, "I'm not really in control of myself right now. I can't risk you getting hurt, I-"

My heart was breaking at the vulnerability in his voice. The fear. So I cut his angst short by stepping into his body and wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him close. He folded around me, his arms pressing tightly into my back, around my waist. His breath was hot against the skin curving my neck.

"You won't hurt me," I whispered to him, extremely aware of how his hold tightened further, and added soothingly, "But I'll step back."

He relaxed against me, brushing his lips against my skin, before letting me go.

Pulling back, I looked up at him and added, "But I want some instructions after, Mister." My voice was wobbling with emotion when it was supposed to be stern, something that had a brief smile touch his lips.

Softly, he agreed, "Yes, ma'am." He hitched his head towards a collection of larger stones to our left. "Get behind there. You'll be able to see, while still being protected."

I glanced over my shoulder at the collection of dark orange-colored boulders, before meeting his eyes again to give him a confirming nod.

I picked up his hand, pressed his palm to my cheek for a second, letting my eyes drift close at the warmth in him, before lifting it to place a soft kiss to the center of his palm.

Looking up at him through my lashes, I smiled at him, "Give me your best, Evans."

But the darkness was still too strong in him to smile. Instead he seemed to take my teasing order quite literally and diverted his eyes pointedly at the stones behind me, causing me to roll my eyes at him in attempt to lighten the mood. Obediently, I turned to walk up to the rocks.

The first heavy drop of the incoming rain fell on my cheek, tumbling down the heat in my face, as I crouched behind the boulders. I had a good view of him from there.

A very good view.

Silently, I traced my eyes down the height of his body, even from a distance seeing the strength of his muscles, seeing the lines of their definition through his clothing. His body was transforming in front of me. From looking resigned and confused into straightening with determination.

I watched his lips form a circle as he concentrated his breathing on taking deep breaths, filling his body with noticeable power. He pulled his shoulders back, lifted his chin and pushed out his chest slightly. His left hand clenched next to his hip, eliciting visible ripples in his biceps and triceps, the fascinating contractions disappearing under the short sleeve of his T-shirt at the top of his arm. His right hand was raising in front of him, stretching out in a firm straight line away from his body, his palm angled upwards ninety degrees at his wrist.

His chest lifted with another deep breath, before he stilled and slowly looked over at me.

My mouth was dry, my lips parted, my eyes wide with fascinated enchantment as I met his heated look. It told me everything I needed to know. _Stay safe_.

I nodded quietly, transfixed, and his eyes let me go causing a whoosh of air to flow into my lungs as the rain drops falling from the sky increased in frequency.

Then his hand started glowing. First with the color of the most beautiful summer sun, before it quickly blended into white only the fraction of a second before it blinked out, making his hand look oddly naked with the absence of light.

But it hadn't 'blinked out'. The energy had been transferred; released from his body. Because the next moment I jumped in frightened surprise as some rocks a couple of feet ahead of him exploded into fine pieces of dust. Completely annihilated.

My heart was beating fast in my chest as I turned eyes back to Max. His eyes were on me, making sure that I hadn't been hurt, and before I even had a chance to verbally express my amazement over what I had just seen (I had actually never seen him shoot anything before), he redirected his eyes towards the desert scenery in front of him and repeated the procedure.

The accumulation of his energy was faster this time. His hand was emerged in the white light before I had time to blink and was released even before that.

I jumped as a large rock formation exploded in the distance, small pieces of the wreckage flying off in all direction, dust flowing up in the air.

Before I had time to look back at Max, another larger rock exploded next to the demolished rock formation. And I realized that it was escalating. Max was firing off blasts before I had time to brace myself, to react, to blink or breathe.

Our surroundings were covered with a fine veil of dust as rain ripped heavily through it. I brushed my hand over my face to get the increased amount of rain out of my eyes, missing as Max cleaved a tree in half.

I squinted against the rain, trying to see through the haze it brought together with the dust, and look at Max.

Wild.

That was the word that sprung to my mind.

He looked absolutely wild. A strong cold shiver raced through me at the sight, magnified by the coolness the heavy morning rain brought.

His hair was pitch black, hugging his scalp with its wetness. His mouth was open, rain flowing over his lips, ignoring the violent breaths escaping from his rapidly heaving chest. His T-shirt clung to every line of his upper body, the water making his olive-colored skin glisten. There was a slight tremble in his left hand, the one that had only previously been firm and clenched at his side, and his shooting hand was making minute fluttering movements up and down with every blast.

As I watched, the corners of his mouth pulled down and back, his bottom jaw pushing forward, revealing his teeth. Under my fearful observation, he let out a roar, simultaneously spinning his body to his right, away from me, and firing one blast after the other without a single interrupting pause.

I had time to wonder how he was able to so quickly refuel himself, before his hand dropped heavily as he sank to his knees in the wet sand.

My heart was slamming painfully against the inside of my ribcage, the guilt already chewing away at the edges of my soul.

What had I done?

I had wanted him to find an outlet for his emotions. I had wanted him allow himself to _feel_ what he had been going through.

But as I got my shaking legs to function in order to cross the distance between us - the wet sand making my steps heavy and tiresome and the rain slicking my hair to my face against the backdrop of the destroyed landscape - I was convinced that I had made a major mistake.

My eyes were fixed on his shaking shoulders, the tension in his bent over back so noticeably it made my heart chill. Rain droplets were clinging heavily to my eyelashes, obscuring my vision, making me doubt if I was seeing what I was seeing.

Because I was seeing vapor come off his exposed wet neck. Steam swirling like a white fog around his body. A fine mist that broke through the chilled rain. I blinked, discarded it as a trick of the eyes as I stopped right behind his hunched over figure.

I fell to my knees behind him, reached out to touch him, and quickly pulled my hand away at the contact with his skin, letting out a surprised yelp.

Max tensed, his fear slamming into me, as I looked at my hand - expecting it to explain why it had just felt as if I had been burnt.

Within the fraction of a moment, he had gotten to his feet and moved away from me.

The rain was falling into my squinting eyes as I looked up at him, perplexed. His face was dark, lifeless even when fueled with fear.

"Stay away, Liz," he grumbled warningly.

My heart was beating in my throat, the burning sensation in my finger slowly ebbing in the rain. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head guardedly, taking a step back as I took a step forward. "No. Liz."

My eyes misted behind wet eyelids and I had to yell to get my voice to carry over the roar of the rain that was picking up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to... I'm sorry. I was trying to help."

The heavy darkness across his face darkened further. "This is not your doing." He shook his head again, fervently and almost violently, as his voice picked up in anger, "Don't you see? _I'm_ the freak here. I'm not just a fucking _alien_ , now I'm a fucking _parim_ too?!" He huffed angrily, pushing his hands through his hair and tugging his head backwards towards the sky. "As if it wasn't enough that I'm one out of a very small - fucked up - race." He lowered his head back to me, his eyes trained on the devastated look in my eyes. "As if it wasn't enough that I'm cursed with a rare ability. Now I'm completely different from everyone else! A complete freak. I'm pure energy?" He bit the words out acidly. "What the hell is that? Don't you see, Liz? I can never get past this. I can never have even a resemblance of a normal existence. This..." he shook his head, his arms tight like steel alongside his body, "This is too much to ignore. I'm completely fucked up."

His self-loathing was robbing me of my words. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him that I didn't want him to be 'normal', I wanted him to be _him_. Because labels didn't matter. As long as he was the beautiful Max I loved.

But the way in which the rain turned into steam as it collided with his exposed skin was stopping me from moving.

Was this what he had always been afraid of? Was this how his body reacted when he lost the control over it? Would this destroy him?

The fear bolted through me with such force that I almost screamed out in pain. The fear that he might die - right in front of me - had my legs move quickly up to him. My move had been so instinctive and sudden that he hadn't read my intention before it was too late.

I crashed my wet front against his, felt the zing as the heat from his body burned into my body, felt the way it heated and instantly dried my clothes before it burned into my skin as I wrapped my arms tightly around him.

" _Nooo!_ " he cried, his voice sounding as if it came from the deepest pit of his being. He tried to push me away, but even though my clothes were threatening to be set on fire and my skin was begging me to move away, my grip only tightened with some inhuman strength as I lifted my face and fused our lips together.

He started to pull his head back, desperate to protect me - protect me from himself, when I felt the heat of his body start to cool. He felt it too, evident from how he stilled in his actions to get me away from me, instead moving his lips against mine in a dumbfounded and tentative response.

Gradually, the heat was chilled, the coolness melting into my body, healing whatever burns I might have managed to receive in that short time.

With the threat of him moving away from me removed, I loosened my grip around his waist and moved my hands up his arms to cradle his jaw. Our kiss softened, his body sagging in relief against me, making me stumble backwards slightly, before he put his arms around my shoulders and pressed me closer, deepening the kiss.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he mumbled weakly against my lips. "You could have killed yourself."

I pulled back, looked up into his eyes and gave him a guilty half-smile. "You know me; I'm reckless."

He deliberately shook his head, as if he couldn't quite believe my attitude towards my own well-being, bringing his hands up to wipe at the rain that continuously wet my cheeks. His eyes were sad and haunted as he leaned in and placed a lingering gentle kiss on my wet lips.

"I love you," he mumbled almost painfully, as he pulled back. "I love you so much."

I swallowed slowly and brushed my fingers through his hair. "I love you." His eyes gleamed with hesitancy - as if he couldn't quite believe my words - so I added, "We're stronger together. Remember? We balance each other out. Believe in that, Max." I momentarily bit the inside of my lip before adding, "Believe in _us_."

His eyes roamed my face silently. There were so many emotions in his eyes, so many conflicting feelings contained in his tense frame. After a couple of seconds with only the loud sound of pouring rain around us, he whispered, "We should get inside."

I looked at him closely, trying to judge his mental state but finding it impossible, before I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. His breath was loud and warm against my ear as I agreed with a simple, "Okay."


	86. EIGHTY-SIX

**EIGHTY-SIX**

Our clothes were clinging to our bodies, our hair flattened to the back of our necks and foreheads, as I pushed through the front door. Getting us from the rain into the dry indoors.

I kicked the flip flops off my feet, placing my wet bare feet on the tiled floor of the hallway, and breathlessly brushed the wet hair back from my face. I could feel him moving around behind me. He was a quiet warmth caressing the insides of my personal space and I fought the need to wrap my arms around him and melt our drenched chests together. Call it instinct, or chalk it up to the jumbled thoughts and emotions slipping through the connection from him, but he was too distracted just now to accept my closeness. He was desperate to get the rest of the information from his father. Desperate in a hopeless hollow way.

I understood his need for distance, for space, because I reacted the same way when life overwhelmed me. I knew that he still needed me close, evident from him moving around me so closely, but I didn't want to push myself at him. Because, to be honest, I was part of the equation he was mulling over. His need to keep me away from the freakish - even if the freak happened to be him - overrode his need to be intimately close to me.

I swallowed back the hurt his low opinions about himself brought. The sadness that made my stomach twist painfully, while my heart slammed brutally with his pain against the inside of my ribcage.

Even if things had turned bad right after his energy blasts; expelling all that energy and finding an outlet for his anger and frustration had helped. But it hadn't removed the truth. The truth was too big, too confusing, to ignore with a couple of energy blasts.

He was bending down to untie his dirty sneakers as his mother came around the corner. At the sight of her flustered face and overall breathless appearance, I became aware of the smell of bacon surrounding us.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted in shock, before she frowned and admonished, "Look at you! What were you doing outside? It's pouring down!"

"We needed some air," I answered sheepishly, glancing over at Max. Max, who was still in his own world of conflicting thoughts. Max, who was unresponsive as he continued to methodically untie his shoes.

My lingering gaze turned concerned before I looked back at Diane to see her eyes having soaked up that same concern. She kept her eyes on the top of Max's dark head, as she lowered her voice and asked me, "What happened?"

"He's fine," I answered, my answer too quick and too hopeful.

Her eyebrows screwed tighter together and her voice held the tone of a worried mother demanding answers. "Max. What happened?"

I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, absently chewing on it, as I watched Max finish removing his shoes in silence, letting his mother wait for a reply. I knew that he wasn't doing it intentionally. His mind was too far away. He hadn't even noticed her asking.

Diane waited patiently, her face hardening with increasing worry with every second her question went unanswered.

"Max?" I implored quietly. He looked up at me, giving my heart a small squeeze of deep love at the fact that he had heard me through all the noise in his head.

His eyebrows pulled low as he noticed his mother standing in front of us. "Mom?" Slowly, he raised up to his full height, towering over both Diane and I.

"Did you not hear me?" Diane asked. Her voice had lost its chiding perplexity, overruled by confusion.

Max looked over at me in the search for answers, before he answered, "Um... Did you ask something?"

My mouth felt dry the more I looked at him. His shoulders were dropped forward, a defeated angle to his head, a blankness to his facial features, a confused emptiness to his usually expressive eyes. The wetness of the rain was weighing his clothes down, flattening and darkening his hair, painting a general impression of resignedness over his usually strong and empowering presence.

It would be impossible for a mother to not pick up on those same details, which was confirmed by her stepping forward and taking a hold of Max's chin with her fingers, angling his face up to hers for scrutiny.

"What did you father tell you?" she asked, sounding stronger now.

"I'll tell you later," Max replied, evenly but without the normal conviction to his voice.

He couldn't handle this. It was all becoming too much. He couldn't deal with her concern right now or her questions that he himself didn't feel like he could answer.

All of this was coming through the connection very clearly, making me gently place a hand on Diane's upper arm. "We just got some new information, that's all. Max needs some time to take it all in."

I felt Max watching me closely while Diane looked at me, standing next to her. She hesitated for a second, before letting her demanding hand drop away from her son's chin and released a loud sigh. "You are dripping on the floor." Her eyes flitted between Max and I, her conflicting look telling me that she was having trouble letting this go and acting like she couldn't see that her son was in a really bad place right now. "Go and change into some dry clothes. Breakfast's ready. You need to-"

Max's head snapped up to his mother. "No." I startled at his authoritative tone. "We need to talk to dad. He has more to tell-"

Diane's face turned hard. Stern enough to have me forget to take my next breath. Her voice was warningly slow as she interrupted. "Go and change. Then come back for breakfast."

"Mom-" Anger was seeping back into his voice, tightening his stance, "I don't have time for food-"

"Yes," her voice was equally defiant as she interrupted him again. "You do."

They were locked in some kind of staring match for a couple of seconds, both faces tight with resolve and the unwillingness to give in, before Max did. His resignation made his body slump and sigh with weariness. "Fine."

I reached out and grabbed his chilled hand, realizing that it was very uncommon for him to feel colder than me, and wrapped our hands together. He looked away from his mother to my face, stepping closer to me at my encouraging tug.

There were no more words exchanged as I felt Diane's eyes on our backs as I led Max by the hand down out of the hallway, past the common room, and down the corridor towards our room.

As we got closer to our room, I looked over my shoulder at him, confirming what I could already feel through our bond. His upper body was curved forward in tired defeat, his eyes fixed on the floor. As if he was making sure that he put every foot correctly in front of him. There was a chilling distance to his body and I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

I don't think he even realized he had been doing it. Maybe it was a defense mechanism on his part; to block his thoughts from mine when they became to overwhelming. When they touched upon a darkness he didn't want anyone else to experience. Not even his bonded. _Especially_ not his bonded.

I swallowed slowly, the sound of rushing blood through my vessels loud in my ears, and traced the shadows of his pulled down face. He didn't even notice that I was scrutinizing him. Didn't even notice that we had almost come to a complete halt. I had never seen him so out of tune with his surroundings before.

Maybe I should view it as a good thing; that he trusted me enough to let his guard down around me. As if he, in some way, felt that I would be able to handle if something came at us out of the shadows. But that might just be an illusion on my part. Most likely he hadn't put any thought into closing himself off.

His hair was hanging down into his eyes and I traced his overgrown hairline to where he had tucked his hair back behind his ears.

I realized then that we couldn't just go and change and return back to a fully seated table. Not with Max like this. It would either make him revert further inside of himself or it would make him explode from everything he was still bottling up.

He reached an automatic stop as I turned to face him fully, looking up into his downturned face. Squeezing his hand with warmth, I said, "C'mon," causing his dim eyes to momentarily spark with his beautiful essence as his eyes connected with mine.

He blinked quickly twice, as if woken up from a dream, and followed the jerk of my head in the direction of the bathroom door further down the corridor, past our room.

There was a twitch in the corner of his right eye and his eyes momentarily fell to the hesitant version of an encouraging smile on my lips, before he read my mind and mumbled quietly, "I don't need a haircut."

I squeezed his hand again, almost trying to coax the warmth deeply inside of him to be squeezed out to the surface of his palm. He was so cold. I brought my free hand up to cradle his cheek, the water that had hitched onto the dark strands of his hair touching the tips of my fingers and chilling them.

He leaned his cheek into my touch, his eyes drifting closed, making my heart clench painfully at the sight of this strong man in front of me being so vulnerable that he wasn't even searching for something to root him down.

Except that I envisioned how his cheek looked brighter, filled with life, with the warmth of my palm pressed against it. A soft gasp got stuck in my throat as I saw the color of warm life spread out through the area where my palm connected with his skin, over his cheek and towards the side of his nose. I blinked. I wasn't imagining it. I couldn't be.

I struggled to find my voice, slowly wetting my lips as I stared at the effects of my touch on him, and whispered, "Humor me, okay? It's either letting me cut it now or letting me braid it later."

That elicited a twitch in the corner of his mouth and his eyes slowly opened, connecting with mine. "Mom won't be happy about a delay. She was pretty adamant about getting us to eat."

His voice was almost mischievous, the lightness of his mumble sending a sharp fire straight into my heart.

"I'll protect you from her," I answered back in a soft tease, but in all seriousness meaning every word. My reply made his eyes soften and warm as he squeezed my hand and placed his other hand in the indention of my waist, his long fingers sliding down the top of my bottom as he pulled me closer.

My hand dropped from his cheek, moving down his chest and around his back, as he pulled me towards him and pressed the side of his wet head against my throat. The pressing of our wet bodies against each other had the coldness of our soaked clothes mold uncomfortably against our skin, but that didn't matter.

All that mattered was that I could feel his heart beat against my chest, feel the strength of his hand against the small of my back, feel the increasing heat of his hand in mine and the calmness of his breath against my skin.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, trying to keep my voice strong for him. But it revealed every ounce of concern reverberating through me.

Two seconds passed before he replied, his fingers curling slowly and gently into the exposed skin at the small of my back, where my shirt had ridden up. "I don't know."

I pressed him closer, brushing my lips against the damp skin behind his ear. "None of this changes who you are." There was an increasing stiffness to his body as I continued, "Finding out that I was a gaea threw me off, but it didn't change who I was. Who I've always been. Because," I paused at the irony of it, "I've always been a gaea. I just didn't know."

His hand inched underneath the back of my sweater, pressing against the vertical line of my spine as he slowly moved it upwards.

That familiar heat of desire curled in my stomach and I bit back a moan as I got out with staggering words, "You being a parim doesn't change anything. You're still you. I'm still me."

He pulled back, his hand heating the skin between my shoulder blades, and his amazing eyes connected with mine. "Doesn't it freak you out? My grandfather and dad both alluded to you being the same. Also being a..." anger flashed in his eyes, bringing forward the smoldering golden nuance to the thin ring of his irises, "parim." He hated the word, the concept, the whole thing. That was easy to tell from the way he spit the word out as if he wanted nothing to do with it.

I shook my head slowly, swallowing my humorless snort. "I think I reached my maximum level of freak-out weeks ago."

He dropped his eyes, his hand losing its pressure against my back, as illogical guilt struck him. He might be blocking his thoughts to me, but his feelings were slipping through.

I returned my hand to his face, brushing my thumb slowly over his bottom lip, watching the top of his eyelids as he stubbornly refused to look at me.

"Hey," I coaxed gently. "You know what this whole theory of parims made me feel?"

He looked up at me, a darkness twitching the left corner of his mouth in a grimace, "As if you were going insane?" My thoughts flickered to the memory of me falling to the floor, desperately and in a mild panic begging for him to block his mind from mine.

"Initially, yes," I agreed. I brushed my fingers through his wet bangs and added reverently, "But then it started making sense."

He frowned and I could feel him starting to search through my mind for an explanation. Something that made me relieved. His inactivity at doing anything earlier had frightened me more than I had wanted to admit. For him to start looking for answers again, was a sign that he was coming back from whatever place he had just been.

Before he could sort out the answer for himself, I explained, "Why we are perfect together."

His eyes turned intense with burning feelings as he brought our gazes together.

I lightly brushed my fingers down his cheek, feeling the stubble of his two-day beard moving roughly against the softness of my pads. "Why I trusted you from the second I met you. When we were five. Why you could never hurt me. Why you've kept watch on me your whole life-"

Anger darkened his eyes as he interrupted, "I kept watch on you because I was told to-"

I pressed my index finger to his lip and silenced him with a shake of my head, "No. That's not why you did it, and you know it. How do you explain me searching you out, over and over again, even when I was supposedly afraid of you?"

His lips moved beneath my finger as he replied sourly, "Because you always have to know where your enemy is. You were being smart."

I frowned. "No." I moved my hand down the side of his throat, down to rest on top of his heart. "I wouldn't have trusted someone I was afraid of if there wasn't something there that told me that, in reality, there was nothing to fear." He pulled his eyebrows together in stubborn disapproval. "Hearing that we are the same - pure energy - made sense. Everyone always tries to fit in. To find some place where they feel accepted and have someone who understands them."

I slowly licked my lips and my voice broke with emotion as I whispered, "We're the same, Max."

The frown of his forehead smoothened out, being replaced by tentative wonderment.

I searched his eyes. "It doesn't matter that you have genes from a different planet. It doesn't matter that you're half-Antarian and I'm 100% human. Because deep inside - where it really matters - we're the same." I swallowed, falling into the depths of his emotional resistance to my words. My voice lowered intimately as I finished, "We're the _same_ , Max."

His amber eyes were misting, and I felt his fearful hope burn into my heart.

I knew how different he had always felt. How lonely it had made him. How he never felt like he could fit in anywhere. He was half. Half of one world and half of another. When all he wanted was to find a place where he could belong.

A place with me.

But he had gotten stuck on that we were different. That I should be with someone who was like myself. Human. And it was tearing at him that he could never accomplish that. However much he practiced his powers, however much he studied, however much he wished for it, he would never be completely human.

Now I was slowly watching how it hit him. Instead of being labelled with yet another definition of 'freak' (being a parim), he was starting to see what I was seeing. How, if we were both parims, that phenomenon would unite us. Would remove his alienation to the world, to me. He would find a place of belonging.

He was slowly breaking apart, slow trembles moving through him. This time, because of happiness he was trying to contain, because he didn't want to hope. Not until he knew for sure. That I was also a parim.

Before he could disintegrate in front of me, exposed in the hallway, I slid my hand down his chest and gathered his hand in mine.

"Let's go and cut your hair," I whispered to him gently.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he nodded silently.


	87. EIGHTY-SEVEN

**EIGHTY-SEVEN**

"Sit."

He gave me a rueful half-smile at my order as I pointed at the toilet seat and went to search out some scissors. I looked at him over my shoulder, my eyes silently lingering on his face. On his downcast eyes as he put the toilet lid down and took a seat. On the dejection in his frame. On the drenching repercussions of having been out in pouring rain, of how it accentuated his detachment.

Sensing he was about to look up, I diverted my eyes before he could catch me staring, and refocused on the task of locating a pair of scissors. I'm not really sure why I was so certain that I would find scissors in this bathroom, but so far the bathroom had been stocked with just about everything.

"Do you actually know how to cut hair?" he asked to my back while I opened the door to the small cabinet above the sink, sifting through creams, toothbrushes, floss.

Slowly, I licked my lips, moving some of the articles around on the shelves to look behind them. A smile fluttered on my lips at the familiar tone in his voice. The know-it-all air that he usually surrounded himself with in public. To hide his big heart.

Teasingly, I asked, "You're not nervous, are you?"

His warm trust for me flooded the connection, forcing my eyes to momentarily close as my free hand gripped the edge of the porcelain sink to steady myself.

"Well..."

I loved the easy and light nuance to his voice. How it (albeit temporarily) erased any trace of the anguish in his soul.

"You trust me with a sharp razor close to your jugular vein, but not to cut your hair?" I asked incredulously in reference to when he had asked me to shave him upon our arrival at the hostel.

I closed the glass door to the cabinet as his playful amusement shot sharply across our connection, straight for my core, making a gasp of lust explode across my lips.

His voice was rich like hot thick smooth chocolate, dripping with his reciprocal to my desire, as he concluded slowly, "Fair point well made, Ms. Parker."

I could feel his eyes on my back, tracing down my neck, down my wet clothes. It had my skin explode in goosebumps. Had my insides quake with an indefinable need for his body. For _him_.

Instead of spinning around to cross the small distance between us, place myself on his lap and melt our lips together, I converted the longing into a strong shudder that had my body visibly shake, and forced my unsteady legs to carry me over to a tall white cabinet next to the shower stall.

My voice was breathy and weightless as I got out, "I've cut my dad's hair for ages."

He was very aware of my reactions. Something that further intensified my feelings. His mimicking emotions, which heated and stroke their way through my being, were making it very difficult for me to remain standing.

Something was changing within him. His thoughts were not clear-cut to me on the matter, but I could sense a tentative acceptance. An acceptance of his true origin. An acceptance of what it could mean for us. Of how it could - _would_ \- unite us.

And - apparently - it was building some kind of energy between us. Making the air in the space between us tremble with heat. Power. Electricity.

The air itself was tickling the fine hairs on my arms, heating my damp skin, shortening my breaths and intensifying my heartbeats.

The intensity of our surroundings was made even stronger by us pretending it was not there. By me trying to continue with the mundane search for scissors while Max was seated in stillness on the toilet seat.

Which was ridiculous in and of itself, considering that we were both aware of each others emotions.

Max's voice was, however, strained as he whispered, "You have?"

Trembles were making my hand look like it was afflicted by some motor neuron disease as I struggled to open the door to the tall cabinet in front of me.

Swallowing, I answered slowly, "Mom used to do it", and in the midst of the churning and overpowering emotions filling the room, my mind drifted to my mother tending to my father's hair. She had always had such steady hands. Right up to about two years ago, when her hands had started to shake so badly that she couldn't control the sharp tool anymore. When her violent tremors initially would make her repeatedly drop the scissors, but how those same severe tremors eventually made her nick dad's earlobe, making it the last time she would cut his hair.

I still remember how much he had bled from that small wound. I remembered with frightening clarity the redness of his blood as it had trickled down his neck like a scene out of some sick vampire movie.

My eyes unseeingly drifted across the exposed shelves, stocked with sanitary products, rolls of toilet paper, cleaning products, towels and anything else one might need in a bathroom, while my mind was watching the memory of the small early signs of my mother's disintegration.

I jumped as he touched my arm, my dive into my memory had me unprepared for his advance. The barely there contact between the pads of his fingers and the damp fabric of my shirt still had the power to send a surge through my body.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he whispered behind me as I felt the air behind my back - between our bodies - ripple with heat.

For a moment I wasn't sure what he was referring to. It would be obvious for him to be talking about me cutting his hair, but it could also be him reminding me that we didn't have to go into battle if I didn't want to. Bringing me back to a previous conversation, where he had - in not so many words - basically promised me to run away with me if I didn't want to fight for their cause.

The paused breath in my lungs was making my chest ache as my eyes drifted upwards over the shelves and caught the reflection of light bouncing off a metal surface.

"How are you supposed to see the enemy with all that hair in the way?" I mumbled as I reached for the shiny object. Which turned out to be the scissors I had been looking for.

My restrained breath erupted into a sharp gasp as he slowly wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pressed my back up against his front. His proximity had my eyes drift closed and my hand pause mid-air, still reaching for the scissors.

His warm breath brushed against the fine hairs on the side of my neck as he whispered, "I love you."

I reached out and grabbed a hold of the shelf instead of the scissors, to steady myself as his emotions rushed through me, turning my body into a warm gooey mass.

"I love you," I said with breathless emphasis.

My back instinctively relaxed against his front, melting into his body, as my fingers trembled with our combined emotions against the edge of the shelf holding the small wooden box with the scissors.

I'm not sure how long we stood like that. With his breath heating the naked area behind my right ear. With his chin pressing into the top of my shoulder. With his arms tight and comforting around my middle. With our feelings overriding any thoughts through the connection, making us float softly on a warm wave of the strength of our love.

But eventually I became aware of the passage of time as Diane's worried face flashed in front of my mental eye, reminding me that she was waiting for us to return so that she could check in on her son.

Max reluctantly released his grip on my waist as the connection shared my empathy for Diane with him. He pressed a kiss to my throat, sending sparkles down my back and all the way to my toes, before he, with a tantalizing brush of his hands against my body separated himself - at least physically - from me.

I sneaked a glance at him over my shoulder, quickly turning to grab the scissors when my eyes happened to collide with his and his wink flushed my cheeks.

My gait was unsteady and I felt almost drunk as I made my way over to the toilet seat where he had obediently resumed his position.

Even with the memory of my mother accidentally cutting my father, I was not afraid to cut Max. I knew that it wouldn't happen. He was safe in my hands.

The realization made me smile and his observation of my reflection had him mirror my soft smile, making his eyes heat with the warmth of gold. Slowly, I licked my lips as my eyes drifted to his. I was extremely aware of his body as I stepped in between his legs.

When he looked up at me through his drying bangs, a sharp protectiveness flooded me. Standing above him like this, looking down at him, put me in an unusual high position that only deepened my fierce need to keep him safe. I struggled against the desire curling in the pit of my stomach as he brushed large hands up the outsides of my thighs and cradled his palms around my hips, steading me in front of him.

"We..." I paused to clear my throat, feeling deliciously exposed while adored when he looked up at me like that. Intently. Tracing every blink of my eyes, while every breath was making my bottom lip tremble. "We - you - should remove your shirt. Or all the small hairs will get stuck in it and it will..."

My voice slowed and trailed off as he wordlessly released my hips, grabbed a hold of the neckline of his shirt and guided it over his head. His eyes were on me the whole time, giving me only a 'break' as the fabric of the shirt for an instant blocked his eyes from mine.

I stilled. The shirt landed on the tiled floor next to us. My eyes slowly traced down his exposed front. My tongue slowly moved between my lips to wet my suddenly dry lips. When would I ever get used to the sight of him? How beautiful he was?

And it was not just a superficial observation. I imagined that I could actually see his essence - his energy - being reflected in the contours of his body. In the well-defined lines of his muscles. In the warm bronzy hue of his skin. In the darkness of the occasional moles, of his dark brown nipples.

My breath stuttered, my grip on the scissors was suddenly painfully hard.

He didn't say a word. Didn't make fun of my speechlessness. Didn't tease me for my obvious lust for him. Didn't point out that I should concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing instead of making goo-goo eyes at him.

Instead, his hands moved back up my hips, making me feel the pressure of his fingers into the softness of my flesh acutely.

There was a touch of nervousness to my voice as I breathed a resigned, "Okay," and tried to force myself out of my transfixed stupor.

His eyes were glued to my face as I combed my fingers through his hair, realizing that I would need to find a comb as well. Hence, it was with quite some reluctance that I left his presence to search out a comb from the cabinet.

Comb in hand, I quickly found myself back between his thighs, with him looking up at me and me running my fingers through his thick wet hair. His hands heated through the material of my pants as he kept his palms firmly pressed into the stability of my hip bones, his fingers a comforting presence.

We didn't exchange many words as I concentrated on shortening the strands that had started to grow wild, freeing his ears from the overhanging hair and exposing his troubled forehead. But while our mouths were saying nothing, our minds were communicating plenty. I could hear him going over the facts about parims, considering what his father had shown us, revisiting memories from his childhood that previously hadn't made sense, and slowly coming to grips with what the information could mean.

I couldn't help but notice that he was careful to not think too much about the possibility of me being a parim too. In my attempt at calming him down over his freak-out about him being 'pure energy', I had unintentionally planted a very strong hope in him that we actually were the same. His father had yet to confirm what had been hinted at in his memory; that _I_ was a parim too. Until then, Max couldn't let himself hope.

Even though it was perfectly clear that he was already (unconsciously) placing a lot of optimism into it.

"There," I said softly, whispering my hand at the ends of his shortened bangs, making them align in soft points below his hairline, lingering at the top of his forehead.

His eyes held the intense glow of his sharp mind as he looked up at me and asked, "All done?"

I bent forward and gently touched his lips to mine. His lips were warm and familiar, the coldness in his body from before having receded. I lingered, feeling the buzzing in my lips from the contact, letting it heat me from top to bottom.

With a reluctant sigh, I pulled back. "I guess we should find some dry clothes and get some breakfast."

My eyes drifted down his bare chest, my heart missing a beat at the sight, and I glanced back up in time to catch his knowing half-smile. He squeezed my hips teasingly before I pulled back and I was comforted by the knowledge that he was feeling much better. That he was more equipped to face his father and mother again. And the rest of the group.

He got to his feet and my head slowly dipped backwards to be able to keep my eyes on him as he came to tower over me.

His lips came to brush over mine again and an overwhelming feeling of love made my stomach churn as he whispered, his lips touching mine leisurely with every syllable, "I'm crazy about you."

My lips curled into a smile against his lips and I whispered back, "I'm nuts about you."

He lingered, his warmth heating my body, before he pulled back with a loud sigh. "Time to face the music."

I nodded, glancing at his bare chest. "Maybe we should get some clothes first."

His hand whisked lovingly over my cheek, the pad of his thumb moving over the soft hill of my cheekbone as his eyes burned into mine.

The energy from before - the heat - was simmering between us again. As if he was seeing me in a different light. As if it made him - if possible - love me even more.

His eyes were signaling love, while his emotions screamed desperate fear. I frowned at the emotion, cradling the back of his hand held against my cheek with my palm, hugging the back of his hand consolingly.

I unconsciously stepped closer to him. Close enough for his warm chest to touch the front of my damp sweater. "What's wrong?"

His voice was dripping with vulnerable as he breathed, "Don't leave me." His plea shot painfully into the center of my essence and I swallowed slowly as he repeated, "Please don't leave me."

My lungs had stopped functioning in the light of his vulnerability, which was so different from how he had, not even two hours ago, suggested that we should break the connection.

It confirmed for me what I had already suspected; that he would be just as unsuccessful at surviving without me as I would be without him. That he was absolutely terrified of losing me and had only suggested for us to break the connection out of love for me. To make me happy. Because he had momentarily believed that _he_ was making me unhappy.

My arms around his shoulders were as strong and tight as they were sudden when I pressed my body up against his and buried my nose into the warm angle of his neck. I placed a lingering kiss against his skin before making that promise that we both knew we might not be able to keep (due to external factors) but that we both desperately needed to hear.

"I'll never leave you. I won't let you go. Ever."

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me even closer, even tighter as I teetered on the tips of my toes and submerged myself in everything that was Max.

Time had a tendency to run away from us whenever we got lost in our own private world, enveloped by the connection, so by the time we finally got around to changing into dry clothes and walking into the kitchen, everyone else in the house was more or less finished with breakfast.

Instead, used plates had been pushed to the side, some arranged in piles, along with a mix of empty and half-empty glasses, to make room for a scattered collection of papers that were strewn across the table.

Max's fingers around my hand squeezed tighter as we approached. He deliberately guided us towards two seats with unused plates, on the opposite side of where his father was standing, leaning over documents.

I was trying to catch the writing on some of the documents, to get a grasp on what they contained, but Mr. Evans' body was obscuring the papers as he leaned forward, pointing towards one for as second before referring to yet another one. Next to him, listening closely, was Isabel. Making a quick sweep of the breakfast party, I realized that my father was also listening in. As was Diane.

But even though she was following whatever her husband was describing in a hushed even tone, she still looked up as her son passed her, throwing me a concerned look when Max didn't acknowledge her.

I offered her a smile, trying to transmit some consolation through the gesture. Trying to communicate that Max was okay now.

I must have succeeded, because Diane held my eyes for two seconds more before she returned my smile, relaxed the tension in her body and refocused on her husband.

"They were last spotted here," Mr. Evans said.

"What's going on?" Max asked, glancing at me cautiously and reminding me of his need to keep me safe from these things. From 'meetings'.

I was about to inform him that we had agreed upon me attending more meetings, to let me be a larger part of my own reality and future, when my eyes fell on the name in the top left corner of the impressive blueprint.

 _Dulce Base_

My heart struck a double beat.

Someone whispered in clear shock, "Is that real?", and it took me a second to realize that it had been me.

I had heard of Dulce Base. Everyone who lived in Roswell - heck, anyone that lived in New Mexico probably - knew of Dulce Base. The alleged underground government facilities, below the surface of the infamous rumored Area 51, where they supposedly held aliens and performed various experiments.

Max was right behind me, his warmth melting into my back as he leaned forward to look at the blueprint over my shoulder.

His mouth was close enough to my ear that I felt his lips against the shell as he answered, "It's real."

Without looking at us, Mr. Evans said, "This is where Command's been hiding. We need to move in through this-" he pointed to the far end of the pictured lines representing hallways and rooms, "-hallway. He's been moving around Level 6-"

"'Nightmare Hall'," Isabel mumbled, her whispered emotionless alternate name for Level 6 sending chills down my spine.

"How long have you known this?"

I looked over my shoulder at Max, stilled by his authoritative voice, by his annoyed demand for answers.

"Early this morning," Mr. Evans replied and looked at his son with determined eyes.

In his mind, Max was going over the timeline, figuring out where he had been at the time this new information would have been discovered.

"Why didn't Michael tell me?" Max demanded.

Michael. Was that why he had been moving around the hallways in the middle of the night? Basically tripping over me when I left the bathroom?

"He didn't have enough information. He only told you what he knew at the time."

I don't know why I even attempted to search Mr. Evans' expressionless face for answers. He was a closed book, as always.

Tuning in to my confusion, Max told me, _Michael told me that we should stay in our rooms. That there was a new development. That things were going down soon._

I frowned. _And you accepted that?_

The Max I knew - the one with the need to control everything around him - would never let that just slide. He would go search for the person with the answers instead of taking orders from his protector.

 _You needed me._

His simple observation was enough to weaken my legs. It was not a big revelation in and of itself, but it symbolized that he was starting to find alternative ways to protect me. That he was giving up some of his control and learning to place some trust in others.

Of course, he could have chosen someone else to trust beside Michael, but that wasn't really the issue right now.

"How are we doing this?" Max asked, guiding me to sit down at the empty chair next to the standing Philip Evans.

Max himself took a seat behind me, placing his hand on top of my thigh and giving it a gentle and comforting squeeze. His presence was all around me. The connection was fully open between us, acting as an express lane between our feelings and thoughts.

While Mr. Evans pointed out strategies, made up plans and moved from one blueprint to the other with practiced ease, I had no trouble following. Even though I had never been trained in military strategic endeavors and had - up until now - been shielded from this part of the alien world, it all made perfect sense to me. This was because of Max's thoughts. Of me being able to eavesdrop on his observations and reflections of what his father was telling him.

To my surprise, I found myself not only intrigued by this game of war but also less afraid. The information, and letting me take part of the plans, gave me a sense of security. Sure, it was frightening to hear of plans that most likely would involve myself and which could very likely mean a lot of pain for me, but I realized that it was a lot better knowing than remaining in the dark.

Mr. Evans was just about to pull out a list of the members of the rebellion when the sound of grunts and the angry voices of one male and one female, along with shifting commotion, coming from the hallway, had Max reacting immediately. He flew to his feet, grabbed my shoulder and almost made me fall to the floor with his agitated and swift pull on my body to get me off my chair and behind him. I managed to remain on my feet as he wound his arm around my body behind him, using his hand against the small of my back to press my front to his back.

My heart was slamming hard in my chest. Was this it? Were they attacking? Was our time of pretend relaxation and recuperation over? Would their advantage of surprising us and catching us completely off guard be the end for us?

I moved slightly to be able to see around Max's back, wanting to know what was going on. I was looking under his raised arm. The arm he had just used to blow things up with in the rain, now aimed at the doorless entrance to the small vestibule.

Distractedly, I noticed that everyone around the table was equally tense. Mr. Evans had moved to stand in front of a seated Diane, protecting her in a manner similar to how Max was protecting me. Isabel had her arm pointed in front of her - prepared to fire. The blood was rushing in my ears as I looked over my shoulder, at my father who was still seated, not protected by anyone.

Blinding fear struck straight through my heart as I instinctively started to pull away from Max to get to my father.

"No," Max told me sharply, his arm tightening around my back, as I met the widened large eyes of my father as the seriousness of the situation slammed into him.

"Dad," I cried hoarsely, wanting him to get to his feet and get behind us. But the fear seemed to have nailed him to the chair and before I had a chance to repeat my request for him to move, to attempt to break through the veil of shocked surprise around him, a voice I recognized as clearly as my own had my head snap back towards the hallway.

"Let go of me, you big oaf!"

There was as subtle momentary relaxation to Max's stance as Michael and a livid blonde girl staggered into the common room.

They were just as wet from the rain as Max and I had been barely twenty minutes prior. Michael's hair was hanging into his eyes and his skin glistened in the light as he visibly tightened his hold around the girl's middle. She was practically bouncing off the ground, her struggles to get out of his hold violent. It was easy to see that Michael was having trouble restraining her.

Her. With her blonde long hair clumped with wetness and her clothes sticking to her small body.

My gasp echoed loudly in the room, having Michael avert his attention from the girl and look up to see all alien hands raised at him, expecting an enemy.

He tensed and was struggling to put his hands up in defense in front of him as he cried, "Whoa, whoa!" His sudden need for multitasking had him struggling to keep the mobile girl restrained to his side.

"It's just-" His attempt at reassuring us of his identity was abruptly interrupted by his own roar of pain as the blonde girl bit down on the back of one of his restraining hands, making him lose his grip on her long enough to let her escape.

Without wasting a single moment, she was twirling around towards the exit with the intention of escaping whatever building she had been brought to. Never once had she looked up at the crowd staring at her wide-eyed, her struggle with her captor having devoured all of her attention.

And now she was intending to get away.

Until my quiet question boomed through the room. "Maria?"

Somehow, through the panic she must have been feeling, through her strong survival instinct, my voice managed to reach her.

She froze with her back to us and I saw a large tremble move through her before she slowly turned towards me.


	88. EIGHTY-EIGHT

**EIGHTY-EIGHT**

Max's hand was easing off the small of my back as my intention moved through our minds. Even before the blonde girl had fully turned towards me, my legs were quickly closing the distance between my friend and I.

The expression in her large green eyes was one of absolute fear, her nervous gaze flittering quickly over the observing group in front of her. Her chin was dropping slowly when shocked confusion replaced her terror as she became aware of the other people in the room, right as I reached her and wrapped my arms tightly around her body.

She remained stiff in my embrace as I squeezed my eyes tightly closed to prevent a cascade of tears. Instead I pressed my forehead against the top of her shoulder, letting the familiar smell of her envelop me.

Never before had I been so happy to see Maria.

"Liz?" she whispered, confused and detached, her arms never returning my hug, the stiffness of her body unyielding.

"It's okay," I mumbled against the heat of her skin. Michael had worked her into a fervor, her body burning up with fear and anger. "You're safe."

There was so much to say, still no words. What could I say? What was I allowed to say?

My grip tightened desperately. I had missed her so much. I never realized how much I had missed her until right then, with the familiarity of her so close to me.

Even if she wasn't acting at all like the Maria I know.

Why was she here? Why had Michael brought her here? No one seemed to have been in on Michael's plan, otherwise they wouldn't have been so taken off guard.

"What- Does- Did he capture you too?" Maria breathed and I felt her body wakening up in my arms, the momentary daze of her anger and need to flee starting to wear off.

I pulled back, letting her out of the confinement of my shaking arms, and couldn't help the small smile from touching my lips when I met her eyes. "No. We're here of our-" I licked my lips slowly before giving her a half-truth to ease her feelings, "-own free will."

The real truth being that none of us wanted to be here. We were all here out of necessity. To hide. To survive.

Maria's nervous gaze jumped back and forth between the odd assorted group of individuals in the room, only briefly touching on my face. I was trying to keep my expression neutral. Trying my best to make her feel unthreatened.

Mr. Evans' evenly controlled voice made Maria jump, telling me how tightly wound she really was. "Michael."

I automatically wrapped my hand gently around the middle of her underarm, attempting to calm her jittery nerves. Also, unconsciously keeping her from running.

"Come with me," Mr. Evans commanded.

I caught Michael's eyes over Maria's head as he uncertainly glanced at the back of Maria's head, sweeping into the direction of the corner that lead to the front door, and back to me.

He was worried that she would leave.

Why - again - was he so intent on getting her here? On _keeping_ her here?

 _Take her to our room_.

Max's voice in my head startled me, my hand momentarily tightening in its grasp around Maria's arm, directing her attention to my face. It was as if seeing Maria had transported me away from the alien world I had been consumed by these last couple of weeks. As if I was leading two separate lives. Two lives that didn't mix.

There was the life working as a waitress at my father's diner and getting A's at school. The life where Maria was my best friend and we spent our free time gossiping (well, Maria gossiped and I listened), painting our nails and watching chick flicks.

Then there was the life containing my alien boyfriend, his alien father, my destiny that seemed connected to Antarians, my apparently human friend Alex being an empath and my memories having been distorted while growing up. Where my mother had been used and abused. Where my mother's murder was covered up as an accident. Where my father had been part of some big rescue plan. Where I was facing war.

The sudden realization of the apparent division of my mind made the setting I was in right then seem utterly surreal. Where the mental voice of my boyfriend suddenly seemed ridiculous and where the only real thing in this room was the frightened girl standing in front of me.

Max kept his feelings to himself when he was - most likely - being bombarded with my confusing and conflicting emotions, playing tag with my jumbled thoughts, and continued, _Don't tell her anything about us. I need to figure out what's going on first._

The only sounds in the room were Maria's harsh breathing and Michael's shuffling steps as he slowly made his way over to Mr. Evans.

I looked away from Maria, feeling her burning eyes on the exposed side of my neck, and caught Max's eyes. _Don't make me do that. Don't make me lie. I can't do it any longer_.

His understanding of my situation flooded me, weakening my knees and I swallowed to find the strength to keep standing.

 _I know, Lizzie. Just for a couple of minutes._

I closed my eyes for a second, snapping them open at the sound of Maria's wavering voice, "Liz. Why is Max here? Why are his parents here? Why are _you_ here?" She pulled her arm out of my grip as I slowly turned back around to face her. Her pupils were fully dilated in her widened eyes, her full lips - which for once lacked the glistening surface created with lip gloss - trembling, as she continued, "What's going on?"

I was searching for an answer, grasping for desperate straws as the forced need to lie to her was trampling my heart. I was trying to string a sentence together as Max rapidly told me, _You're supposed to be on vacation with your father, visiting your aunt. Your father told school himself that you were not handling the death of your mother very well and that you needed to get away. That you both needed time to be with each other and grieve._

Silently, with my lips paused in the opening of a reply, I listened to his quick summary while I watched the sheen of moisture in Maria's eyes grow fuller and deeper. I was expecting the moisture to tumble over the edge of her bottom eyelid as Max continued, _My dad got a promotion at a Chicago hospital and we all had to go with him. So we moved. Isabel, mom, dad and I. Alex is on one of his many trips - with his family_.

"Liz?" Maria whispered.

 _That's what Maria knows,_ Max finished.

I searched out my voice at the back of my very dry throat and croaked, "Let's go someplace where we can talk."

Maria's eyes skittered to the silent crowd watching us behind my back, and I could feel through the connection - from Max's point of view - that she was pausing an extra beat on Max's face.

It was probably a good thing that Alex had not joined us in the common room yet. Maria had experienced enough shocks as it was. Seeing two out of her two best friends in this odd company - especially when she had been told that every single person in that room was supposed to be somewhere else - might have just pushed her over the edge.

Instead, she let me gently take her hand and guide her towards the long corridor. I felt the weight of their eyes following us, and I was pretty sure that Maria was equally aware of it.

She must trust me implicitly, I realized. Otherwise she wouldn't be following me like this. Straight into the lion's den, for all she knew.

It made what I had to do - and what I had already done - so much harder. So much more weighed down by immobilizing guilt than if she had mistrusted me. I would have to - once more - abuse her trust in me and tell her more poisonous lies.

 _We're gonna find a way around that, so you won't have to anymore_ , Max whispered gently into my frazzled mind.

His words did little to comfort me though, as I gently led my best friend down the hallway and pushed the door to Max's and my room open. I let go of her hand as we reached the center of the room. She remained where I left her, still as a statue, her back towards me as I hurried to close the door behind us.

The closing of the door was only announced by a soft click, but it was enough to awaken Maria.

She spun around, surprised me by grabbing a hold of both of my upper arms and giving my upper body a firm shake. Her eyes were large and shiny, infused with alert dread and sharpened with intelligence.

"We have to get out of here," she hissed loudly, giving my body another shake, as if she was trying to physically shake the words into my body.

I struggled to remain calm as I told her to follow suit, "Calm down, Ria."

"Calm down?" she questioned with a loud whispered shrill. A tear spilled down her cheek as she repeated, "Calm down?"

"Yes," I breathed, grabbing her hands to remove her painful grip on my arms. "We're all-"

She shook her head forcefully and took a step back from me. Something that looked like betrayal was visible in how she was tightly pressing her lips together. "Don't feed me that crap again, Lizzie." She swallowed, her eyes being skittish as they brushed over the closed door. The only entrance in - and most importantly - _out_ of the room. "What the hell is going on here?! Why are you with-" her words cut off abruptly as she flung her arm harshly at the wall pointing towards the common room, several rooms down and hissed, "- _Max Evans_ and his parents? His sister?"

Instead of answering, I briefly bit my lower lip, and asked, "Did he hurt you?", referring to her 'abductor', a.k.a Michael Guerin.

Maria's eyes darkened with anger. An emotion I was a lot more comfortable with than her teary emotional shatter. I could see small droplets of spit bounce off her furious lips as she seethed, "Yes! That scum! That fucking lowlife!" I could tell that she was trying to reign herself in from how her whole body was tightening, but mostly from how she was clenching her fists by her sides.

I could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears.

"What gave him the right to touch me? To _kidnap_ me?!" Her anger brimmed over into tears as the first ones rolled down her cheeks. Her voice was mangled as she continued, her sobs leaking through her words. "He knocked me out somehow! God knows what he did to me while I was-"

A vulnerable hitch that I had never heard in Maria's confident repertoire before put a stop to her angry messy tirade and her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, her head dropping forward as she started sobbing.

"Ria," I said slowly, regretfully. Her tears and her behavior was breaking me apart into small sharp pieces that were intent on swimming around my body, poking holes at every cell getting in their way.

Carefully, I stepped up to her and wrapped my arms around her tightly wound body. She softened at my touch, untangled herself and moved her arms from herself to me, tightening them around my waist as she buried her already wet face against my collarbone.

I tried to hush comfort against her ear. Tried to still her fears and calm her anger by gently stroking her hair. But even with every passing second, there was minimal softening of her body.

She was still in fight mode. Something told me that she was still determined to get us out of here.

And sure enough. After barely a minute, she pulled back, removed her arms and wiped both her tears and her sniffles away from her face with her trembling hand. Fiery, clear eyes stared into mine. It was a look of determination that only Maria could conjure up. "Tell me what's going on. Right now. Or I'm getting out of here."

For an insecure second, I searched for Max in my mind, but he must have turned off. Either to give me privacy or to conceal the meeting they were obviously having right now. The meeting that would decide if I was allowed to 'keep' Maria or not. If she were to have her mind erased (something I already knew I would fight against) or if she were to be let in on their complex secrets.

My mind worked quickly. If I was going to lie, I might as well give her a good one. And maybe that would save her from getting her mind erased.

I gestured towards the bed. "Let's sit down."

She narrowed her eyes at me, a disapproving look melting into the one of determination. There was unquestionable reluctance in her agreement before we took our seats opposite one another on the bed, imitating each other when crossing our legs, resting our hands in our laps.

She pursed her lips in thoughtful criticism, angling her head to the side in silent invitation for me to speak.

"Right," I mumbled, dropping my eyes away from hers and slowly wiped my damp palms along the top of my jeans. Taking a deep breath, I hesitantly met her eyes. "There was a problem with Sean."

Her forehead wrinkled, but she remained silent.

I fought to remain still. To not fidget under her stare. "That day in the gym. He...he tried to force himself on me. Rape me."

A flash of protectiveness and anger flashed through her eyes and her body trembled as she pressed her lips tightly together. I considered her reaction, expecting her to say something, but realizing quickly that she wouldn't.

I was not used to this Maria. This stonewalled version that demanded answers without any jokes to lighten the situation.

"Max was there just before you came to find me. He left to get help." I slowly licked my lips, firmly holding her gaze. "He found _you_. And the principal. Without Max..." I shook my head, dropping my eyes in thought. "God knows what Sean would have done if Max hadn't been there."

"Why didn't he stop him himself?" Maria asked tightly, causing me to slowly look up at her. "He's much bigger than Sean. I'm sure he's stronger too? And unless Max wanted in on the action, I wouldn't think that Sean actually would go ahead and rape you in front of Max. So why didn't he just stick around? Why did he risk _leaving_?" There was a look of 'Are you trying to take me for a fool?' in her eyes as she huffed, "Come on, Liz. Why would he need help from anyone?"

My brain was already hurting from trying to sort this out, to make up explanations as I went along. "To have witnesses."

Maria raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Witnesses?"

"Sean's father is the Sergeant. Who would they have believed?"

She frowned. " _You._ " She grabbed my hands from my lap and squeezed them between her clammy ones. "They would have believed _you_. It would have been not only your word but also Max's against Sean. There would be no question."

I slowly shook my head. "You don't understand the power the Sergeant has-"

She abruptly let go off my hands, having them drop heavily onto my folded shins. "Where are you going with this, Lizzie? So, he saves you from getting raped-" I tried not to react to her cold voice as she callously mentioned an attempted rape, knowing that she was upset right now and needing to get answers and information as soon as possible so she could get out of here, "- and then what? How does that lead you here? With the rest of Roswell believing that you are with your dad at your aunt's in Florida, and Max and his family have moved to Chicago."

"As I said," I did my best to keep my voice steady, "Sean's father is a powerful man. He didn't exactly approve of what Max was accusing his son of, so he started threatening not only Max but also Max's father. Threatening to dirty his reputation. To make sure that he couldn't get a job anywhere. That he would forever be blacklisted."

Maria slowly ran her tongue over her upper teeth, not looking the least convinced. "All that only because Max accused Sean of _attempted_ rape?"

 _Please, Maria_ , I begged silently. _Work with me here. Don't make me continue to lie to you_.

At my non-reply, she leaned forward slightly, setting her eyes on me and demanded lowly, "Are you and Max together?"

I was a bit taken back by her abrupt change of topic. So surprised that my response started with a trail of stutters before I answered, "Yes."

Maria nodded slowly, her mouth remaining tight and disapproving. Taking a deep breath, her eyes hardened, making her look like someone I didn't know. Slowly, she stated, "It. Doesn't. Make. Any. Sense."

"What doesn't?" I whispered, wanting to cry.

I had missed Maria. So much. But I had ruined us. My lies and my secrets had ruined us. I could see it now. I could see it in Maria's darkened eyes. I could hear it in the unwilling coldness of her voice.

Whatever happened after this, we would never be the same again. We would never again be Liz and Maria, two best friends, who laughed carelessly, goofed around and humorously made fun of each other. We would never gossip lightly about boys or break out into dance in the middle of the town square. We would never camp out in the desert on a whim or prank my dad at work.

We would never ever be _us_ again.

"All of it," she answered simply, detached. Hurt flashed in her stony eyes before she said, "I can tell that you're lying, you know. I can see it in your eyes. And your cheeks get all red. Your hands are sweating - I felt it just now," I swallowed back the hurt slowly. Was that the only reason she had taken my hands before? To estimate if I was sweating or not?

"I've known that you've been lying for a long time. Even before you and your dad picked up and left. Even before you left without even saying goodbye."

She bit the last word out as if it would poison her if it was to remain on her lips for too long.

That's when I realized where the betrayal originated from.

 _I hadn't said goodbye._

My whole body was tense with the unfairness of it. Of me being unable to tell her the truth. Of me not being allowed to tell her that I had been unable to say goodbye because I had been held captive by aliens while being starved and abused.

I couldn't tell her that I would _never_ voluntarily leave her without saying goodbye, because I was not permitted to tell her the real reason behind me leaving.

"Maria..." I whispered, wanting to tell her everything, but lacking permission.

Tears had started running down her cheeks as she met my pained eyes, but her voice remained unaffected. "What, Liz? What?"

The irony was not lost on me; she was acting alien.

"I've missed you so much," I whispered brokenly, biting into the inside of my bottom lip to prevent my own disintegration.

Emotion flashed over her face before she looked away. Towards the closed door. I could see the round shape of her tears as they slowly, singularly, rolled down the cheek that was facing me.

At her stoic behavior, I confessed softly, "I can't tell you why I didn't say goodbye. Why I left so abruptly. It had to do with Sean and that whole thing I was trying to tell you about, but I'm not allowed to tell you much more than that."

The corner of her mouth tightened in her profile as anger fell upon her again.

"I love you," I said quietly, feeling exposed and vulnerable. I could almost see my bleeding heart pounding on the floor in front of her, completely exposed, expecting her to stomp angrily at it. "I would never willingly leave without saying goodbye. Without giving you an explanation as to why."

Maria turned her head in my direction, sadness in her eyes that infused me with hope. She was letting me see her. Just a glimpse, but it was still her. My best friend.

She opened her mouth to say something, my body already leaning forward to catch her every word, when Max opened the door.

His eyes immediately landed on me, scanning down my seated body, before he met Maria's angry face. She hadn't moved an inch. Not even at his sudden entrance.

Instead she was challenging him. To speak. To attack her. To...something.

Max quickly left her stubborn face and his eyes softened as they landed on my face again.

 _We have to move_.


	89. EIGHTY-NINE

_Child of Music and Dreams - Thank you for the feedback!_

* * *

 **EIGHTY-NINE**

His anxious order threw me for a spin. My questioning was understandably breathless, "What?"

"What?" Maria echoed, sounding demanding and irritated at my question about nothing.

Max ignored her, closing the door behind him and stepping in front of the lock with his hand behind his back. It was not rocket science to figure out what he was doing, locking us into the room with his powers. It was only a second later that he steered his steps towards me, still not looking at Maria.

A quick glance in her direction told me that this annoyed her more than anything else. She was the newcomer here. The one that needed answers. And the one person that might possess those answers was completely ignoring her.

 _Maria's life was threatened,_ Max explained.

"What?" I breathed and looked up into Max's emotional eyes as he stopped in front of me reaching out to slowly roll a strand of my hair between his fingers.

Maria was staring at us. I could only assume that she was finding more and more questions rather than answers.

 _That's why Michael brought her here._

I frowned, confusion fueling me with a mixture of irritation and a sense of feeling like I had missed something.

"Why would he make that decision?"

I knew why _I_ would. But Michael was Michael. Michael barely protected the guy he was supposed to protect. He invited me and Maria to a dangerous party filled with aliens and he had never shown a tendency of warmth. Not to my knowledge, at least.

"I don't know," Max replied softly and I felt his own confusion now. But it was faint and brief in the pool of his fear that was easily, at our increased proximity, pulsating into me.

"What are you doing?" Maria interrupted.

For a second, I had forgotten that she was there. It didn't take me long to realize that I had spoken out loud while Max had spoken to me telepathically. Meaning that our conversation had not only been one-sided but it had made Maria incredibly suspicious.

Max didn't pay Maria any attention, his eyes still on me, as he let go of my hair and brushed his hand along the line of my jaw, making my body shiver in delight at that simple fleeting caress, before he turned away, took a sideway step and came to tower over Maria.

I opened my mouth to say something (without having a plan as to what), when Max beat me to it.

"Listen to me carefully." His voice was even and controlled. Stern even. Making Maria immediately straighten, her scowl falling off her face. "I'm sorry for what I'm about to say. I realize that this will come as a shock to you, but we don't have much time."

Maria stared at him silently, her face paling.

"You will see a lot of weird things during your stay with us, and it will all be explained eventually. For now, you need to know that Michael, my father, Isabel, Alex and I are all aliens. Extraterrestrials."

My chin slowly dropped, opening my mouth in a perplexed 'O', while I watched Maria react in the same exact way. His words might have caused Maria to laugh on any other occasion, but there was something about how Max said it. Something about the intensity of his stance, about the authority surrounding him, about the graveness to his voice, that made you not question a single word coming out of his mouth.

He would have been able to tell Maria that he was the Easter Bunny and she would have believed him.

"We are part of a secret society of aliens, having co-lived with humans since 1947, when our ships landed here. Some of us want to be integrated with humans and attempt to lead normal human lives. Others want to remain superior over humans, using humans any way they can to enhance their own race."

He paused, looking over at me. I swallowed at the intensity of his eyes, at the barely concealed emotions swirling in his pools of amber. I saw Maria's frightened look out of the corner of my eye as she turned to look at me as well.

She looked back at Max as soon as he let me go, the pause only lasting for one second. "Liz is one of those methods my race use to become stronger. She's, what we call, a gaea. So was her mom. So was her grandmother. According to my race, she is to be chronically harvested for her life energy. To sustain and support the growth of power of a chosen military man."

Maria had paled to the shade of a corpse and I could feel my heart beat slowly in my chilled body.

"From the age of six, she has been promised to Sean Carter."

I gasped, noticing the subtle flinch in Max's body at the sound. I hadn't known that. He had never told me that I was 'betrothed' at such a young age.

"During Liz's upbringing, she's been repeatedly tested on. Her blood has been taken by my father and her mind has been bent and erased by Sean. So that he could get to know her mind. I've been participating in these visits. My job…" For the first time since he had started this monologue of 'confessions', Max's voice wobbled and his guilt ripped through my abdomen, "My job was to heal Liz. So that I would grow familiar with both her body and mind. How she works. To be able to heal her quickly were she to be depleted of her life energy by Sean in the future."

I reached out and folded my fingers around his hand. Except the momentary wobble to his voice just now, his body language revealed nothing of the distress and anxiety I was drowning in, coming from him through the connection.

Maria's eyes fell silently to my hand as I laced my fingers with Max's. Her face was screaming with fear, her upper body unconsciously leaning away from us.

"When Liz was ready - physically and mentally - she was to have sex with Sean - voluntarily or not, to create the bond that would allow the energy to be transferred whenever Sean needed it. This is what happened to Liz's mother. That taking of energy weakened Nancy, made her sick beyond our healing abilities, and started to affect her mentally. She was.." Max hesitated, licking his lips, before adding, "…eliminated when it became clear that she was a threat to Liz." His words sliced sharply through my heart. "She was planning to kill Liz to save her daughter from a life serving aliens."

Maria inhaled sharply, blinking large eyes to me. I wanted to reach out and grab her hand with my free one. But the distance in her body language stopped me.

"Being bonded to Sean, feeding him energy, might have resulted in the same mental instability in Liz. If his 'borrowing' her energy didn't kill her first."

Max's hand was warm in mine. I focused on that warmth. Focused on the slow stroke of his thumb over the hill of the knuckle to my thumb. His words were pulling out all of the monsters. They were lining up all around me, baring their teeth and growling menacingly. Waiting to pounce as darkness was creeping around behind those monsters, pulling the shadows closer.

"Liz was fatally injured when trying to save her mother from their burning house. The fire that was set to conceal Nancy's already dead body." He paused before stating his personal secret. "I healed her."

The memory of what he had done to me made the monsters take a step back, made the space of light around my body briefly expand.

"I had to form a connection to her mind to heal her. I never broke it. I was supposed to. Instead I had acquired the connection to her mind that Sean had been after."

I could see Maria's mind working, trying to put the pieces together. It was not an easy puzzle to assemble. The facts were science fiction while fear was standing right in front of you, asking you to trust him.

"The connection protected her from Sean. At least, until our council found out what I had done."

His mouth set into a grim line as he said darkly - letting me know that he had heard our conversation, "Liz didn't say goodbye to you because she was being held captive at the hands of our leader. She was refused food. She was not allowed to sleep. She was beaten and mentally abused by both Sean and his father."

Max was squeezing my hand so tightly that it was taking everything inside of me not to let out any sounds of pain, but his face still revealed nothing of the boiling anger inside of him.

"Sean attempted to rape her on several occasions and she was saved only by her own strength."

 _And the connection,_ I added silently, making Max throw me a heated glance. He was still at war with the connection, apparently.

"Sean and his father are no longer alive."

I was grateful that he didn't tell Maria who was behind the death of those two.

 _The connection,_ Max readily corrected my guilt, but I could already feel the hot breath of the monsters breathing down my neck, nipping at my knees, brushing against my stiff back.

"But Command - our leader - wants to capture Liz and I to either use the strength of our connection as a weapon, or he aims to annihilate us altogether, to prevent his enemies from using us against him."

Maria was trembling now, looking ready to faint.

"Command - who can basically kill with a well-directed thought - is now after you."

I watched her break. I watched, millisecond by millisecond, Maria disintegrate into tiny pieces in front of me. I watched the trembles intensify, moving from her hands out into the rest of her body, before she stumbled to put her arms around her middle before her body would break in two.

"No…" Her voice was a faint imitation of a whisper. That broken barely there whisper was her first word since Max's words most likely had shifted her whole world view.

The darkness was closing in around me, closing in around Maria.

I swallowed back my own fear and whispered, "It's all true, Maria."

"Michael intercepted men who were about to break into your bedroom and he didn't want to waste any time on consulting us first," Max said, his voice gentle now. Careful. "He wanted to get you out of there as soon as possible."

Maria's lip trembled as she looked up at Max. "Why?"

Max hesitated. He obviously didn't want to give her the same answer he had just given me. That he had no idea why Michael suddenly had decided that Maria's life was worth saving. He couldn't tell Maria that. Maria needed more. Maria needed comfort.

"Because he's trying to do the right thing."

And just like that, Michael had - in my eyes - stepped out of the shadows and joined the light. But while my opinion of Michael had improved, whatever the reason behind his actions might be, my friend was slowly disappearing next to me.

"Liz," Max said gently, his eyes tracing Maria's face. "Go get Alex."

Maria's eyes snapped to my face and the first of her previously paralyzed tears rolled down her cheek as she with a trembling bottom lip, whispered fearfully, "You've got Alex too?"

I felt Max's eyes on my face as I failed to let Maria go with my own. "Now, Liz."

I inhaled sharply, as if sprung from a trance, and got off the bed.

"No," I heard Maria croak at my impending departure.

Max's voice was gentle, soothing as he mumbled, "It's okay."

But his consoling had no effect on my best friend.

"Liz!" she screamed after me and my own tears tumbled down my cheeks as I struggled painfully to ignore her, and left the room in search of Alex.

I wouldn't realize until later that in order to get out of the room, I had unconsciously unlocked the door which Max had previously sealed with his powers.

The lock that was basically password-protected with his genetic stamp.

* * *

I found Alex in the common room.

Apparently, he had joined the rest of the group for the discussion about Maria's future role in this whole thing, while I had been in the bedroom with Maria.

Six pairs of eyes flew to my face as I stormed into the common room, and Alex's semi-controlled feelings slammed into me from across the room, making it easy for me to immediately pinpoint his location.

"Alex," I got out breathlessly, while Michael shot from his chair and barked, "What happened?!"

I ignored Michael. Sure, he might have just saved Maria's life, but I was far away from being anything remotely close to nice to him already.

Alex was already moving towards me as I hurriedly explained, "Max needs you, Alex."

He came up really close to me and grabbed my arm. His eyes were large and worried as he hovered over me. "How is she?"

Since we were a bit pressed for time, I dismissed his question with a shake of my head. "Let's go."

He gave me a brief nod, his eyes scanning my profile as I turned to head back the way I came from. His concern about the situation, about our mutual friend, hung heavily from his many unanswered questions.

His feelings were so heavy that I had to stop him a couple of feet outside of the room and sharply order him to, "Pull yourself together."

His eyes widened in surprise; I could even feel his shock at my order rolling off him in waves.

"I can feel everything you're feeling," I said, forcing my stressed voice to soften. I knew that he couldn't help it. He was worried sick about this whole situation. But he really couldn't let his own feelings feed into Maria's very real fear. "And Maria doesn't need to feel that. It'll make matters worse."

"Of course," Alex said thinly, the annoyance at himself for losing control brushing my emotions, before he pulled back and I was left with only my own - and Max's - feelings.

I took a deep breath, loosening the fists I hadn't been aware of tightly clenching.

Experiencing the emotional span of two people (Max and I) was overwhelming enough. Experiencing the emotions from _three_ people was draining.

My body tightened with fear as I prepared myself for what I would see when I pushed the door open.


	90. NINETY

_Niko8 - Thank you so much for the feedback! Warms my heart :-)_

* * *

 **NINETY**

I really wasn't sure what to expect when I walked through the door. At this point every scenario seemed plausible. Maria could be screaming and crying, trying to make a break for a window, or even clawing at Max's face. She could be apathetic, rocking back and forth in a corner, or cowering like a frightened animal. There was also the possibility that she could be putting the pieces together and come out on top with a frail (and fake) sense of control over the situation.

At my momentary hesitation about opening the door, Alex almost walked into me, stopping so close to my body that his warm and nervous breaths lightly ruffled the top of my head.

He had blocked himself off; regaining control over his ability. I couldn't feel any of his emotions. But I could still read his body language and the regular telltale signs of very real human nervousness. From the small trembles of his chest as it pushed up against my back - due to our close proximity - to the slight squeak at the end of his deep inhalations.

I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into the softness of my palms while taking a deep breath and steeling myself for, well, anything.

Automatically, I searched for Max at the back of my head, but he was silent. Worryingly so. The sudden fear that Maria had somehow managed to hit Max over the head with something and rendered him unconscious, had me instantly turn the door knob to get into the room.

The knob didn't budge.

Alex's breath was warm against the back of my neck as he looked over my shoulder. "Did he lock it?"

I frowned and tried to figure out how I had gotten out of the room in the first place. I remembered quite clearly that Max had locked the room with his powers coming _into_ the room. So how had I gotten out of the room earlier?

An uncomfortable shiver slid down my spine, my hand hanging limply and forgotten on the handle. I felt Alex's confused gaze on my face before he gently pushed my hand off the handle and grabbed it in his own, trying to jiggle it open. As if my failure at opening the door was simply because I didn't know how to.

"Wait," I whispered and attempted to swallow my trepidation.

I was ignoring the fact that there was complete silence on the other side of the closed door. Right now, I would have preferred there to be a lot of screaming and even the sounds of things being broken.

The deafening silence was frightening.

My hand was shaking as I curled it around the handle again, pushing Alex's hand out of the way with the movement. In some way, I had managed to open Max's locked door before. Unless he had the ability to unlock the door from a distance, just before I had reached the door, I had been the one to somehow unlock it.

Something Max had told me was not possible. Not when it was protected by someone's energy. Which was tied in with someone's genetic code.

But maybe that was it. Maybe our energies were blending. Maybe they were becoming the same. Maybe, energy-wise, I could pass as Max now.

I had no idea how I had done it before. I hadn't given it a conscious thought. And now I had to somehow replicate that unconscious action.

Which essentially meant that I turned to what Max had instructed me to do, not too long ago, when he had wanted me to make water boil.

 _Visualize it._

"I can try and unlock-" Alex started, trying to push me away again.

My grip tightened on the knob and through impatiently pressed teeth, I said, "No, he hasn't locked it with a key, Alex. He's locked it with energy."

Alex sighed. "Then _he_ needs to unlock it."

Frustration at being interrupted, at not being able to focus on the task, had my words spew out in a clipped fashion. "Give me a sec, okay?"

His eyes were on my face. His body language was hesitant. But he pulled back without a word, letting me have the stage.

With a deep inhalation I closed my eyes and imagined a see-through padlock, shimmering and golden - since it was made exclusively of energy. I loosened my grip on the handle to visualize inserting a golden key in the lock and feeling the small click reverberate through my hand as it was unlocked.

Opening my eyes, I snaked my fingers around the smooth metal handle once again and slowly turned the knob.

The elation I might have felt at being able to unlock the door successfully was smothered by the sight of Maria in one corner of the room and Max in the opposite.

Maria's eyes were already on me as I took in how she was flushing her back against the wall, how even the palms of her hands were pressed up against the wall along the sides of her body - as if she was trying to push into the next room through the wall, and how glaringly white her face was.

The terror widening her eyes was so prominent that I was momentarily afraid that her eyes might pop out of their sockets. Her lips were squeezed so tightly together that they had turned as white as the rest of her face, and her chest was moving up and down too rapidly to be healthy.

Max - having taken up residency in the spot furthest away from Maria's position - quickly walked up to me and wrapped his warm arm around my waist. My body felt stiff against his natural heat when not even his presence could get me to look away from Maria.

"Alex," Max said shortly, quietly, and I got a whiff of the unique smell that was just Alex as he quickly moved past me towards Maria.

"No," Maria squeaked, her voice sounding nothing like my strong friend. Her chest rose sharply with a frightened gulp of air, before she repeated, "No," and seemed to want to melt further into the wall.

Max's arm tightened around my waist in response to my obvious distress as I watched Alex slow down his pace the closer he got to Maria.

"You're one of them," Maria whispered and by the sound of her voice I was surprised that she left the word _Traitor_ out.

My knees were softening, my legs wanting to give out, as Alex's calm and comforting voice drifted to Maria. "I know you're scared, Ria, but you can trust us."

The knee-buckling effect was all due to Alex's ability. Even though it was directed at Maria, it was slightly unfocused, affecting me as well. But the bulk of it was on Maria. I could tell by how the tightness around her large eyes started to soften, by how she let herself blink, by how large tears started to roll down cheeks that were already filling with more color.

I could see her whole body softening, making me worry that she was going to fall over, before Alex reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, an obvious struggle of emotions in that simple question. From the frown between her eyes it almost seemed as if she was confused by her own reaction. The wobble in her voice told me that she was still deathly afraid.

But the manner in which she took one step away from the wall and consequently one step closer to Alex - one of the assumed enemies - told me that whatever he was doing was working. She wanted him to comfort her. She was - albeit reluctantly - asking him to make everything bad disappear.

He was making her trust him.

Something that made me very conflicted. Because it was an immense relief to see Maria relax, to watch that fear fade away from her very being, but a large part of me still hated the fact that Maria was _forced_ to feel something she didn't. Just to make it 'easier' for someone else to deal with her.

"Come on," Alex said gently. "Let's sit down."

Maria's eyes flickered to Max and the coldness in them as she looked at my boyfriend, at my bonded, was like a knife plunging straight into my heart.

Forget about your best friend rejoicing over you having a boyfriend.

Instead, concentrate on preventing your best friend from murdering said boyfriend.

"I don't want him here," Maria said, the hostility in her voice light. From the irritation flashing in Maria's eyes she had intended for it to be more acidic, but she couldn't know that Alex was tuning down her negative feelings right now.

Alex's hesitant face was blurry next to Maria when I failed to stop looking directly at her face. But the silent communication between the men could not be missed as Max tensed next to me, his fingers tightening into the curve of the right side of my waist, before he whispered to me, "Let's go. Give her some space."

Since my eyes had yet to leave Maria, it was impossible to miss how her eyes widened yet again and the abrupt step she took in our direction. "No."

Max had instinctively angled me slightly behind him at Maria's loud and firm protest. I don't think he even realized he had done it. That he was essentially trying to protect me from my best female friend. My best _human_ friend.

"You're not taking her anywhere," Maria threatened.

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell Maria that it was okay, that Max loved me and presented no danger to me. But at the same time, I didn't necessarily want to leave with Max. I wanted to stay with Maria. To make sure that she was okay.

"I'm not leaving Liz here," Max countered, his voice intimidating in its firmness.

Finding both by motor skills and my tongue, I laced my fingers with his fingers that were pressed warmly into the side of my waist, gave his fingers a gentle squeeze and said, "It's fine, Max. I need to be with Maria."

Maria was back to staring Max down, some of the more familiar fire that was Maria shining brightly in her eyes.

 _I don't know how much time we have._ Max's voice was grim in my head. It sounded sharp and clear in the absence of his thoughts and feelings. For not the first time, I wondered what he had done on his side of the connection.

My eyes drifted closed with love as he nuzzled his lips against the side of my neck and told me, _I'm partially blocking you._ And with a deep sigh, he seemed to reluctantly take a step back and change direction. _You need to focus on Maria right now. Not me._

 _Max, I-_ I started to protest, but even without an audible voice he was able to interrupt me.

 _Be with her. She needs you._

He pressed a kiss to my skin, his lips lingering as a flood of love broke through his block, flowing over the connection and making me lose my breath. At the same time his body was strained against mine, as if he was resisting what he was suggesting, subtly letting me know that he didn't quite approve of leaving me right now. _I'll try and buy you as much time as possible, but I can't make any promises._

My eyes blinked open and I met Maria's tear-filled gaze. I couldn't hide the sadness in my voice as I whispered, "I know," hating that we couldn't take this slow. That I couldn't give Maria the time she would probably need to absorb all of this.

His arm around my middle tightened and he nudged the side of my face gently, making me break eye contact with Maria to turn my head to the side and connect my lips to his expecting ones. A shiver of pure love moved through me at the contact and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut to prevent myself from crying.

I loved him so much.

So so so much.

I opened my eyes to look at him, missing his eyes, missing the sight of his face, only to find him already looking at me. His lips moved against mine and judging from the small crinkles forming around his eyes I knew that he was smiling.

His voice was husky and intimate, like we weren't being watched by two other people, when he told me warmly, "I love you. So so so so much."

I turned in the circle created from his arm around my waist to press my front to his, while I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face into the warm angle between his neck and shoulder.

I knew that time was of the essence. I knew that Maria was most likely disgusted by this display. I knew that we were being watched and that our timing for lovey-dovey stuff probably wasn't the best.

But I needed a moment. The last couple of hours had gone by too fast. Too much had happened. I needed to breathe. Needed just a second to melt into his presence and feel the security his love brought me.

His arms were strong around my back as he pressed me hard against his body, tightening the embrace, making me wish that we didn't have to face reality. That, instead, we could just stay here. In each other's arms. Forever.

But Max, being the responsible one, started to loosen his grip way too soon for my liking. With a mild groan of protest I started to loosen my own grip around his neck, leaving the smell of his skin. Before I got too far away, though, Max had re-captured my lips in an all-consuming kiss.

His lips fondled my bottom lip, before his tongue brushed heatedly against mine and he re-angled our mouths to capture my upper lip. His fingers were pressing into my jawbone, the lower part of his body pressing against mine as his frenzied breaths filled the air between us, mingling with the labored sounds of my own breathing.

"Max…" Alex's uncomfortable voice pierced our bubble and with a frustrated grunt of objection, Max pulled back, meeting my eyes as I looked up at him.

My heart was hammering loudly against the inside of my ribcage while I floated in the passion visible in his eyes. The rushing of blood in my ears was drowning any other sound around me.

He gave me a softly crooked smile before leaning in and pressing his lips tenderly to mine. I pressed back, needing more from him, but his response was as dependable as I would have expected. While I pressed for more, like the lovesick teenager I was, he pulled back, like the rational alien he was.

"I'll let you know what's going on," he promised in a low tone, before taking a step back away from my body.

He paused, his eyes tracing down my face, before he lifted his hand to slowly brush his fingers down the side of my cheek, his light touch sending shots of fire through my system.

"Love you," he whispered.

"I love you," I replied, my voice sounding weak as it got lost in all the emotions.

With a small comforting smile, he removed his hand, winked at me, glanced over at Maria and Alex, and left the room.

The silence of the room grew even louder as the door clicked closed behind Max. Maria had returned her eyes to Alex and inched closer to his body. She was being pulled in by the 'Alex-effect'.

It made me feel like an outsider, even though I knew that 'the effect' in question was a result of Alex's powers. I slowly wrapped my arms around my waist to fight off the sudden chill.

Maybe I _was_ an outsider nowadays. I was the conundrum, the one that no one could figure out at the moment. Which meant that I barely had a place in the world. No definition. No identity.

"You're an alien," Maria whispered, her sudden break of the silence making me jump.

She had grabbed Alex's hands and wrapped her long slender fingers around them. Her nails were painted. Pink.

I was rooted to my spot by the door as I watched Alex slowly nod confirmation. I didn't notice any discomfort or nervousness in his appearance, but maybe he was just focused. Maybe he was hiding behind a 'role', just like Max did.

"I would have told you…" a tentative sheepish smile grazed his lips, "It's just not such an easy thing to tell. With the risk of you possibly attempting to get me committed."

Maria still looked uncomfortable and her voice wavered with unbelief as she pointed out, "Hey, I wouldn't do that."

The discomfort he had probably been hiding slipped through his mask as he dropped his eyes from Maria and mumbled, "It's not real. What you're feeling right now, the reason why you can stand to be this close to me now… It's not real."

There was a pause in Maria's breathing as her unblinking eyes were stuck to Alex's face. It made control flow back into my legs, enabling me to start moving forward and get closer to my friends.

"What do you mean?" Maria whispered.

Alex's visible discomfort turned glaringly obvious, and as he clearly struggled to find the words, I found the words instead, "Alex's brain works differently than that of a human."

Maria blinked large glistening eyes to me. Her lips were dry. There was a flush to her cheeks even though the rest of her face was white. She was worryingly calm.

Was she still under Alex's powers? She must be. Otherwise she would be freaking out right now. Maybe she was freaking out on the inside? Trapped, but without the ability to react. Screaming at the top of her lungs while Alex was smothering the cries.

An ice-cold shudder rocked me and I momentarily met Alex's eyes, silently wondering if it worked like that. Because it would make Alex more alien, more frightening.

"Because he's an alien," Maria repeated, her voice detached. As if saying it over and over again would make it real.

With my attention refocused on my freaked out friend, I nodded, licked my lips, and clarified, "He can use his brain to push his will on someone else."

I noticed how Alex blanched next to Maria. I noticed how the small spots of life on Maria's cheeks started to fade when she felt the same feeling of hurt - which Alex was not only feeling but also unconsciously sending out - that I was.

I wet my lips again and tried to swallow even when my mouth felt dry as sand. "I'm sorry. I…" I flicked my eyes to Alex apologetically before looking back at Maria. "I don't meant to scare you, but that's how I would explain it."

"I can push my own feelings onto you," Alex said, accepting my poor excuse of an apology with an uncomfortable twitch to his mouth.

Maria looked back at Alex, her features crinkling with confusion.

"Which means that I can make you feel happy if you're sad and comfortable if you're uncomfortable." He cleared his throat when his own very real discomfort put a break in his voice. "Theoretically anyway."

Alex's own discomfort was interfering with Maria's fake feeling of comfort and I could see tremors returning to her frame, her back tightening up, as she slowly turned to look at me. With a demanding and gradually chilling look in her eyes.

The real Maria was returning.

"Alex is still the same person," I said quickly. "Believe me, I was skeptical at first, but he is. He would always give you _better_ feelings, not the other way around." With the exponentially cooling expression on Maria's face, I desperately looked to Alex for confirmation. "Right? Alex? You would never make someone happy feel sad, right?"

Alex shook his head. "No. No." He was searching for eye contact with Maria, but she had the side of her face to him while she silently traced every syllable coming out of my mouth. "Of course not."

"The good aliens-" I started and took another step closer to the bed, mildly comforted by the fact that Maria didn't move away at my tentative approach, "-are good. Believe me. They want to blend in with humans. Lead normal lives. Use their abilities for good."

With large air quotation signs, Alex picked up my line of explanation and said, "The _'bad'_ aliens are really really bad. Dangerous."

I couldn't be sure if Alex was consciously pulling back his powers to prove that he was one of the 'good guys' who wouldn't use his ability to control someone against their will, or if he was simply losing his control of it, but Maria was slowly becoming herself.

As though backing away from a dangerous animal, avoiding any sudden movements, she slowly placed her hands a couple of inches behind her hips and used her strength to pull herself backwards slightly. Creating more space between her and Alex.

"How many are there?" she asked, her voice gaining strength with every spoken word. "How many of you are there?"

Alex cleared his throat again. "Around 600, give or take."

Maria's mouth dropped open, her eyes widening, words failing her.

My reaction was the same. I had come up with around 150 families of alien descent in my research, but I hadn't done any further calculations than that at the time.

600 was a lot.

Also, it probably meant that a lot of them didn't live in Roswell.

Which is what Max had alluded to; that there would be no place for us to hide were we to attempt to escape the alien community. 600 was not a large number when considering taking over Earth or something like that (if that was part of anyone's plan), but it was enough to place people in important social positions.

"How many in Roswell?" Maria whispered, her voice lifeless.

"72," Alex replied, as if that number had been closely imprinted into his memory.

Maybe it was an important detail to know…?

From the sharp movement of Maria's chin forward, I could tell that she was trying to swallow, but seemed to be just as unsuccessful as I.

"All pretending to be human?" she asked, her calmness impressing me more and more.

Maria had always been impulsive, full of life, emotional. A whirlwind of energy. A hurricane of opinions and emotions.

This collected and methodical side of her was one I rarely saw. I had seen it when my mother had died, when I truly realized how caring and protective she was of me. I had seen it on the rare occasions when her own mother had fallen ill and had needed taking care of. On those occasions, scatter-minded Maria had turned into this pillar of strength that would take care of Amy's business, run errands, cook, do laundry while simultaneously continuing with her own life of going to school, doing homework, hanging with friends, and gossiping.

I had been too deep into the whole alien-Max-grief-for-my-mother-era earlier to have fully noticed, but I saw it clearly now.

Maria was an incredibly strong woman.

"Some of us are actually part human," Alex replied.

Silently I watched the interaction between my two best friends. How Alex now seemed to relax some more. Maybe because he too recognize this calm 'let's get things done'-version of Maria. Which was always easier to deal with than the emotional and threatening Maria.

"I'm a hybrid," Alex continued. "A mix between alien and human." He didn't look away from Maria's stoic face. "So are Max, Michael and Isabel."

"But you can still force people to do things they don't want to?" Maria asked, her voice cold enough to freeze the air in the room.

I knew what she was hinting at. It was the same problem I had with the aliens since the start. That they robbed us of our free will. Which made us - the humans - feel helpless and vulnerable when we were informed of this little fact. Like we had been played for fools, used like puppets.

"Yes," Alex replied, reluctantly, wiping the palms of his hands up and down his thighs. "Alien traits are dominant. So even if they were 99% human, a hybrid would most likely still be able to use non-human abilities. But we haven't lived on Earth long enough to be able to try that theory out yet."

Maria stared at Alex for a couple of long seconds before she loudly exhaled. "I don't…" She started shaking her head, her calmness withering at the edges. The coldness in her eyes had dimmed as she turned to look at me again. I had inched even closer and was standing a mere two feet from her. "Is my mom okay?"

My stomach plummeted to my feet.

I hadn't thought of that. I didn't know that. Would the Antarians attack Amy?

"Yes," Alex replied when I didn't, instantly attracting Maria's full attention. "She's being looked after."

Relief flooded me.

 _Thank God._

"Why did they come after me?" There was wet emotion in Maria's voice now as she either allowed her feelings to come through or couldn't fight against them any longer. "I have nothing to do with this." She pointed a trembling hand at me, barely throwing me a glance before looking back at Alex, "According to Max, Liz is a…" She scrunched her face up and waved her hands around in the search of the word. Just as Alex opened his mouth to fill in 'gaea', she waved the whole thing away with a, "Whatever it was called." Irritation made her talk faster. "So she's forced into this. But why am I here? Why do they want to kill _me_?"

Fear made her voice break with restrained tears and I carefully sat down right next to her, next to her stiff back.

"We're not sure," Alex explained. "But most likely because of your association with Liz. Maybe they were attempting to use you as leverage. To lure Liz out. And…" Alex looked at me over Maria's head, "…if they got a hold of Liz, Max would follow." He swallowed, a look of grim nausea settling over his thin lips. "Mission accomplished."

"So that's why Mr. P is here as well?"

"Yes," I whispered. No one had told me the reason to my father's presence straight out, but it must be part of it. To keep us all safe. We were all in this together now.

Even Maria.

I jumped out of my thoughts as Maria's hand, reaching behind her, tentatively clasped mine. My eyes flew to her face, to search for a clue to what might be going on inside her head. But her profile didn't give anything new away, as she kept her eyes firmly on Alex.

A tremble of emotion, tempting me with the longing to cry, moved through me and I instinctively squeezed her cold hand in mine.

"What else can you do? What…'abilities'- Is that what you call it?" Alex nodded quietly and let Maria complete her question before he answered. "Do you have any other abilities? How have you managed to keep all of this secret?"

Relief wanted to take a hold of me. Questions were good. If the ever inquisitive Maria was back to asking questions - especially while holding my hand - there was hope.

"We have basic abilities, which are the same to everyone," Alex licked his lips. "Like, all of us can defend ourselves with energy blasts - shot from our hands - simple heating and cooling of molecules and simple mind techniques."

Maria's hand was squeezing mine tightly.

"Then there are _special_ abilities, the ones unique to every Antarian. You can-"

"Wait," Maria interrupted. "Antarian? What's that?"

"That's our race," Alex answered calmly.

Maria leaned her body towards mine, the effect of her moving closer to me squeezing my heart with warmth.

I could almost hear her swallowing, her voice weak and trembling, "Of course it is."

Alex stilled, searching Maria's face silently, before stating, "You need a break."

"I'm fine," Maria replied quickly.

"You're not," Alex countered. And I knew that he was basing that information on his readings of Maria's emotions.

A more familiar irritation pierced through Maria's voice as she bit out, "Your buddy Max told me earlier that there was no time. So, I want answers now. Before it's too late. Before you whisk me off somewhere else against my will."

Alex hesitated, locking eyes with me in question, looking for support.

"Tell me more about _your_ special ability," Maria said and there was a surprising softness to her voice, making me lean further into her body, my shoulder now touching the top of her spine, our hands clasped between our seated bodies.

Alex cleared his throat. "Okay." He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm an empath. I read and regulate emotions - feelings - of people in my vicinity." He hesitated, possibly expecting Maria to freak out. When she didn't, he continued, "But like Liz mentioned before, I don't make someone feel bad. I always try and send out good feelings."

There was a beat of silence, before, "How many times have you done it on me? _Regulated_ my feelings? Made me feel things that were not real?"

Alex's face was completely serene as he answered. There was not a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, no wavering of his voice. "I haven't. Not until today."

Maria's hand squeezed mine tighter. "Are you telling me the truth?" She shifted slightly. "Or are you making me _feel_ like you're telling me the truth?"

Before Alex had a chance to answer, Maria had ripped her hand out of mine and had gotten to her feet. Even with her side facing me, I could see the redness of her cheeks and the fire in her eyes. No one could miss the way her hands tightened into small firm fists.

"How would I know that that is the truth? How can I ever trust you again?"

Alex rose from his seat, a warm red blushing his face as he took a step towards Maria with arms stretched out calmly in front of him. He didn't back down, not even when she took several steps backwards to increase the distance between them.

"This, for instance," Alex said slowly. "I would never _make_ you feel like you're feeling right now. Instead I would try and make you feel better."

"Who's to judge what's better?!" Maria questioned acidly. "What if I need to feel anger right now, because that's the emotion my body needs?!"

It was around the time that saliva was flying in small angry droplets off Maria's lips with her every angry word that I started to feel Max's presence getting closer. And before Alex had a chance to defend himself or attempt any explanation at all, the door flew open, startling both Alex and Maria into stillness.

Because I had felt him coming, the only thing that was making adrenaline surge through my veins and my heart wanting to beat out of my chest at the sudden appearance of my alien boyfriend, was the look on his face.

A look I barely had time to see before he had stalked across the room, grabbed me firmly around the upper arm and pulled me up from my seat.

"We're leaving," he barked between clenched teeth. "Now."

His warm hand was sliding down the length of my arm to lace his fingers tightly with mine as he pulled me along towards the door, all the while angling me behind me.

I didn't like the tension in his body. I didn't like that he was still mentally blocking me. I didn't like the frenzy with how Michael and Isabel stormed into the room after Max.

I almost lost my footing when trying to look back over my shoulder with Max still pulling on me, to catch a glimpse of Maria. I had time to see her widened frightened eyes as Michael hurriedly approached her, reached an abrupt stop in front of her, and put a hand to her forehead.

My scream of protest at the sight of my best friend's eyes rolling back in her head before her legs folded beneath her and she sagged towards the floor, was immediately cut off by Max's hand over my mouth and his lips close to my ear as he pulled my resisting body up against his side.

"Shh… Don't make a sound." I felt the tips of his fingers press into my cheeks, the heat of his palm against my dry lips. "They're here."


	91. NINETY-ONE

**NINETY-ONE**

He was holding her tightly. Almost protectively. Cradling her close in his arms the best he could while his quick steps kept jostling her unconscious body.

My heart was slamming violently against the inside of my ribcage, my hand clammy in my boyfriend's grasp, and I had trouble keeping up with the frantic pace.

Still, I couldn't stop myself from continuously - constantly - looking over my shoulder at my best friend - my _passed out_ best friend - who was being carried by a person who had always intimidated me. Someone I would fight with everything I had to protect Maria from.

And now I was letting him carry her.

Without the spunk of her wakefulness, Maria appeared fragile. Her arms were long and thin, her skin light - almost white, her lips were a pale pink and her limp legs hit against the side of his thigh with every step.

Compared to her, he was as large as a house. His shoulders were broad and the ease with which he carried Maria told me that his body was well-muscled and strong. The disorder of his hair, the slightly-too-long strands sticking out in all directions, together with the focused and hard look in his eyes, made him exude wildness.

Normally, I wouldn't let a man like that get in ten feet of anyone I loved, but these weren't normal circumstances.

These were the circumstances wherein an assorted mix of friends and families fled down stairwells, unlocked hidden doors in the wooden floor and climbed down old ladders, where the pins had been moistened by old water during the span of numerous years, and the murky darkness of the awaiting underground tunnels made my heart kick off in a frenzied rhythm.

Under these circumstances, I was glad that Maria was with us, and not in any danger in the outside world. Under these circumstances, I could even look past the fact that Maria had been rendered unconscious before our flight because she would have been frightened by the dark horrors of her newly discovered reality.

Max pulled tightly on his grip around my arm as I stumbled in a dark puddle of collected old water, and prevented me from falling to my knees.

 _Focus,_ he told me sharply in my head, dark desperation and fear clouding his authoritative composure.

I blinked. Tried to get my mind back on track. Tried to find some calmness in the situation. Tried to reach deep inside myself and find that collected, rational being that I used to pat myself on the back for being.

She wasn't there.

She had made a rapid exit in the seconds following Michael making Maria unconscious. Right around the time when Max had pressed his hand against my screaming mouth and I heard the closing of the front door and the shuffling sound of several feet. _A lot_ of feet.

The calm and methodical version of myself was nowhere to be seen when I had realized that we were indeed about to be captured. Or killed. All of us.

The reality of the situation was so surreal, so unrealistic, that my calmer self immediately gave up and abandoned me.

And here I was, stumbling after Max with my hand holding tightly onto his, damp cool air grinding against the inside of my windpipe with my ever strained breath, my feet - only wearing socks - wet and bloodied, and my muscles cramping from the constant running.

The adrenaline kept me going. The adrenaline dried up my tears. The adrenaline threatened to bump my heart out of my chest.

My head was hurting from the sharpness at which I concentrated on picking up on any sounds behind us. Sounds of being followed.

I was glad that both Michael and Alex were running behind Max and I. That my back wasn't exposed to the empty darkness of the tunnel. Where something could at any time jump out and put its claws into my back.

Not that I was being followed by large evil monster with razor sharp teeth and two inch long claws, but my body was nevertheless sure that something terrible was going to happen.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever. We must have been running for the past twenty minutes. I wondered if we were actually running to another city - taking the underground route. Because it felt like we were about to cover miles.

My eyes had gotten used to the darkness, enabling me to spot Maria when I frequently looked over my shoulder at her. Small slivers of light, passing through the roof at different spots (alternate exits...?), made it possible for me to evaluate her coloring from time to time.

How long would she be out? Would she suddenly regain consciousness? Or was Michael able to control it somehow?

This might have been the point at which Max would have answered my questions, because he could certainly hear them screaming through my exhausted mind.

But he remained silent. Focused on getting us forward. Focused on leading the way through the darkness. Focused on any sounds around us that might alert us to danger.

My confused questions were low on the priority list right now.

The longer we stayed in the tunnel, the more the walls started to close in on me. The damp smell of compressed soil was making my stomach turn, fueling my fear. The occasional cold water droplets hitting my scalp felt like hard pebbles, sending shocks down the length of my spine.

I could no longer feel my feet. It was as if my feet had turned into bricks. At least, that's what it felt like. Without any sensation in my feet, I could only register the heaviness with how the parts at the end of my legs moved, without feeling the ground beneath my soles. Maybe I should be grateful about this, because it was certainly better than to feel the small cuts and blisters covering the underside of my soft feet.

But it made running more difficult and I lost my footing too many times to count. I would have collected many more injuries had not Max's grip on my arm been keeping me on my feet even when I faltered.

"How much further?"

I was surprised by my own breathlessness, by the difficulty at getting the question out during my strained breathing.

"Not much longer," Max replied.

I swallowed worriedly at his voice. It was hurried and tight, as if the words had been quickly pressed through clenched teeth. My hand tightened around his. He was afraid, perhaps more for my safety than his own, and the danger of the precarious situation we found ourselves in was slowly wearing even him down. The constant alertness and the strength it took to keep me upright, while keeping up a steady pace and making sure that we turned the right corners in the dark tunnels, was weighing him down.

Just as he tugged on my hand, for about the twentieth time, to round a corner, a shadow came out from the side of the adjacent tunnel, only a few feet in front of us.

I had believed Max to be worn out and exhausted beyond his own abilities, but his actions in that fraction of a second after the unidentified person stepped in front of us spoke of an impressive control over the situation.

I was pulled behind his broad body at the same time as a strong blue light flared. I got distracted by the lightness of the dirt walls before my eyes shifted to the person through the blue veil of protection that Max had put up between us. It was the same rippling veil that Michael had put up between him and I in the corridor some nights earlier. But his hadn't been blue. His had been colorless.

But I didn't have time to reflect on this incongruity.

Instead, my heart stilled in frozen fear and a gasp flew across my lips as I recognized the man.

To my surprise, instead of keeping the protection up between us, Max released the veil and it dimmed and dispersed into nothingness like a colorful fog.

I couldn't find any words to protest. Couldn't even find any thoughts to scream at Max through the connection.

Because it was a deep surprise to me that Max would drop his shield in front of one of Command's men. Not even the brightness of Max's force field had managed to lighten the darkness of the man's head, the hair shining in its perfectly combed hairstyle. But the momentary light had highlighted that it was indeed the man from that fateful meeting - which seemed like ages ago - who had been seated at the same table as Command. Who had been right next to the Mayor. The dangerous Mayor who Max had sharply told me to not look in the eye.

As the light blinked out, the black-haired man gave me a long silent look - as if he was looking straight into my very core, making me step more firmly behind Max.

I was being bombarded by the memories from that meeting. From that time when I had been someone else. From the time when I had been on the brink of leaving my innocence behind. The reminder of that fragile state had me shivering with fear.

I was convinced that Max had just given up. That the black-haired man was of such a great importance and power that Max had deemed it useless to even battle him. Useless to even fight for our lives. I really saw no other reason why Max would straighten in front of me, before casting a worried look over his shoulder first at me and then our companions.

Mere seconds had passed since our encounter with the man, but I felt like everything was moving in slow-motion. Which is why I felt like I should follow Max's gaze and see the reaction of Michael and Alex, wanting to know if at least _they_ were making an attempt at fighting back.

But I couldn't take my eyes off the man.

Which might have been why he looked back at me and met my gaze straight on. I could feel the heat from Alex's body as he stopped closely behind me. I could smell the sweat on Michael's skin as he too came closer.

And then I noticed a subtle movement in the corner of the man's mouth along with a softening of his determined eyes, and it struck me.

He's on our side.

And suddenly I couldn't understand how I could have not recognized the man. The dark-haired man's identity had been explained to me previously. At the smaller meeting Max's father had held with Max and I right after Max had woken up from being stabbed by Sean in captivity.

Standing in front of me was James Dresden.

The man who had contacted my father before I was born. The man who had come up with how to lock memories away to make my father into my unknowing protector.

The leader of the rebellion.

The man tilted his head almost respectfully at me, before directing eyes and feet towards Michael. There was a hurried briskness to his movement as he breezed past me, which broke the feeling of transfixed slow-motion, and I was flung back into full reality mode.

"Michael," Dresden stated resolutely. "Give her to me."

I whipped my head around to see the strange man hold his arms out towards Michael, and my instinct was to scream, "No! Don't touch her", because I still didn't know this man. Which meant that I didn't trust him. Which meant that he was not allowed to touch my unconscious, vulnerable friend.

Curiously, Michael's reaction was the same. This was probably the first time I felt myself reacting the exact same way as the tall muscular hybrid.

Although, Michael was a bit more respectful as he took a step back, rustling Maria's limp body to get a better grip. "No, sir."

"You're exhausted," Dresden pointed out.

His voice was dark. Firm. Authoritative.

His statement made me realize that Michael truly must be exhausted. He seemed to be well-built, but to run for 20+ minutes on uneven ground, carrying around 130 pounds of unconscious human being, must made his arms feel ready to fall off.

"Michael," Max said tightly next to me. "Do as he says."

I turned around and searched Max's face in the dim light. "Max, no..."

The fear in my voice had his eyes flit to my face and he released the steel grip he had kept on my hand to instead move it to gently cradle my cheek. His eyes softened and time slowed along with the frenzied panic inside of me. "It's okay, Lizzie. He can be trusted."

By unconscious habit, I bit my lower lip, gave Max a distrustful look, before looking over my shoulder at the man, feeling Max's hand slip slowly from my cheek at the twist.

Dresden was in a game of wills with Michael; them both staring each other down while Michael held Maria tightly.

"It's not up for you to decide," Michael grumbled, his voice lacking its normal strength due to obvious expenditure.

"Don't touch her," I said. It was intended to come off as a warning. It came off as an order.

I felt Max tense behind me as the man spun around and I found myself trapped in his eyes again. But Max never warned me to look away from him. Not at the meeting. Not now. Consequently, I met his eyes straight on.

"Elizabeth Parker," the man said, an almost pleasant melody to his words. "We should stop meeting under these circumstances."

Prior to me consciously acknowledging that I was trembling, Max had turned around and wrapped one of his arms around my middle, pulling my back tightly and safely up against his front.

My mouth was still dry, but Max's strong and calm hold on me gave me the strength to say, "I've only met you once. At the meeting."

The corner of his mouth moved again. As if he was itching to smile, but never quite succeeded. It still had the power to make his face look sympathetic. Almost warm.

"That you remember, yes," he replied courteously, implying that he had been a part of my erased memories. "More answers later, Elizabeth." His eyes glanced over Max's shoulder, into the darkness of the tunnel. "We have to move." His lips tightened and he bit out, "Now."

When the man turned on his heel and practically tore Maria out of Michael's exhausted arms, Max grabbed my hand and spun me out of his embrace, like some innocent dance move, and started pulling me into the darkness.

Only this was no dance. This was me starting to feel the pain in my feet again, probably leaving bloodied footprints in my trail, while I struggled against Max's hold to get a view of Maria - now being carried by someone I didn't personally know.

I stumbled again, my damaged feet not holding me up, and that same moment the pain from my feet twisting underneath me shot up my legs and spine and I realized, "The blood!"

 _What?_ Max questioned inside my mind. His question was distracted, his focus on following Dresden's lead.

"My feet," I gasped, my breathing labored, now accentuated by the pain in my injured angle. "The blood from my feet will-," I coughed, "-will leave prints." I paused to get air in my starving lungs. "They'll find us."

Max stopped so suddenly that I ran into him. I noticed Alex stopping right next to us, while Michael continued past us, seemingly intent on not letting Dresden - or perhaps it was Maria - out of his sight.

I was startled with surprise as Max quickly bent at the knees to place his hands around the back of my knees and swoop me off my feet. I automatically frowned and opened my mouth to protest, my body stiffening at what he was trying to do.

He couldn't carry me. It would slow us down.

But before I could say anything, a worn out and breathless voice said, "I've been erasing our prints after us - yours included, Lizzie."

Alex.

I straightened my neck and looked at him. His face was smudged with patches of dirt, making the shadows from our surroundings across his features even more pronounced. The combination gave him a dark and almost dangerous appearance. I realized that I had never seen him like that. The goofy laid-back Alex Whitman I knew had never looked this haunted or agitated.

"We know what we're doing," Max mumbled over my head, shifting me in his arms, tightening his grip, signaling for me to relax and let him help me.

 _I can do this, Max. I need to run._

But he wouldn't let my plead change his mind. _It's not too far now. You're in pain. I hate when you're in pain._

Pure pain rushed through my chest, a result of his emotions and my sympathy for hating when _he_ was in pain. Crawling on top of that feeling was guilt.

 _I want to heal you, but I don't have the ener-_

We were already moving again, Alex behind us, Max's quick pace rhythmically jostling my body, and I pressed the side of my cheek against his warm chest as my arms tightened around his neck. I felt the dampness of his exertion through the thin shirt.

"Shh," I chastised, my body already relaxing in his hold, my feet throbbing with pain but being relieved that they were no longer being walked on. "I know."

"It's up there," Alex said in a loud whisper, making me lift my head from Max's chest and look up the tunnel.

I had time to catch a glimpse of Michael as he quickly bent down and went through something that looked like a very small opening at the bottom of the wall, about three yards up the tunnel, before he disappeared from view.

Maria and Dresden were nowhere to be seen.

"Almost there," Max said softly and it would be impossible to miss the weariness in his voice now.

Alex flew past us as we approached the small opening, not taller than three feet, at the bottom of the compacted dirt wall. Alex kept looking over his shoulder, scanning our dark surroundings, while he crouched next to the opening, signaling for us to go through first.

Max let me down to my feet, his hand tightening around my arm when the pain from my feet softly impacting with the ground shot through my system. I couldn't put much weight on my twisted ankle.

I gasped, clenching my fists and teeth to stop myself from crying out.

"You okay?" he asked worriedly and I swallowed back tears.

No, I was not okay. I was very far from okay. Not just physically, but also mentally. But we didn't have time for that now.

Instead I looked at the small opening which looked as if it had been made for hobbits, and asked, "What's on the other side?"

"Safety," Alex answered and grabbed my free hand, the one not holding on to Max. As I looked down at him skeptically, he grimaced and added, "Hopefully."

"Go on," Max said impatiently and pressed a comforting hand between my shaking shoulder blades to urge me forward.

With a shuddering sigh, fear of crawling through dark passages without knowing what was on the other side moving through me, I crouched down and slowly got to my knees.

"We'll be right behind you," Max assured me.

I hesitated before giving a short nod, ducked my head to avoid hitting the ceiling and started the crawl. The darkness within the small passageway was even more pronounced, more drowning and suffocating. It smelled worse in there - sewage - and I felt the dirt press in under my fingernails as my fingers sank into the dirt ground. The dirt was less compacted here - less 'walked' on.

I got the feeling that this passageway had been added long after the main tunnels. Like an afterthought.

I felt Max's hand around my ankle, comforting me in that he was literally following on my heels.

I took another deep breath and started to believe what Alex had told me just now.

 _Safety._

My state of mind - if I had managed to relax some or if I still had adrenaline pumping painfully through my body - probably wouldn't have made much difference to my reaction at the loud sparkling bang. As if large power lines had broken off and crashed into the ground, sending sparkles to light up the dark passage that I was occupying.

My head still hit the roof before I collapsed on my stomach. My heart still felt like it jumped out of my chest and made a beeline for a safe exit (wherever that would be), and I still wet my pants.

Then the warm presence just behind my feet disappeared.

One second Max's hand had been on my ankle. The next it wasn't.


	92. NINETY-TWO

**NINETY-TWO**

Max's screamed instruction of "Gooo!" reverberated through my whole body, magnified by a roar (which sounded, frighteningly, a lot like Alex) and my surroundings were so quickly drowned out by sounds of struggle that it seemed surreal. It was as though someone had hit the play-button on a war movie in the middle of a scene where it was raining down bombs and screams.

My feet had still been outside of the passageway, but the last thing Max had done before I had lost his presence behind me, was to push at my damaged feet to get me completely into the passageway.

In the midst of the commotion and confusion, a mere second after it had all started, someone grabbed my upper arms and yanked me forward. A scream of sudden fear - the hands on my arms taking me by surprise - got stuck in my throat as I was hauled forward, the numerous grains of sand in the soil rasping against my chest and stomach, rubbing though my clothing.

I struggled against the hands. Tried to free myself. Tried to prevent whoever was pulling me from adding any more distance between Max and I.

I needed to get back there. Every little part of me was screaming to get to Max. He needed help. Maybe it was my love for him that made me reckless, or maybe it was the connection that was pulling me into the mouth of danger, but it obviously wasn't a rational wish on my part.

Because _rationally_ , I knew that I needed to put as much distance as possible between the tunnel I came from and me. Without any proper training, I was useless out there. I would probably get myself killed instantly.

But that rationale was not enough to stop myself from swearing at the person dragging me out of the narrow passageway and into a parallel tunnel.

"What did you do?!" I asked furiously, scrambling to get my body working so that I could turn around and go back to where I had come from.

My eyes landed on my 'savior'. I only met his eyes for a moment, but it was enough to mute all words of protest at the tip of my tongue.

I was so stunned by the hardness of determination in Michael's eyes that I didn't even say anything when he rather roughly - and painfully - bumped me to the side with his shoulder, to gain access to the passageway.

My mouth fell open in speechless shock as I fell on my behind from the shove and watched how Michael ducked into the small opening before the passageway swallowed him up.

Max's protector.

Michael had left Max alone. Maybe that was not allowed... Maybe Michael was supposed to be next to Max at all times in these type of situations. That was probably the reason why Michael had looked so...frightened. Because of guilt. Because of fear of being punished for neglecting his duty.

Or... Maybe he actually cared whether Max lived or died. Maybe he was actually frightened that Max was going to get injured.

"What happened?"

My mouth hanging open in shock, my mind having trouble comprehending what was happening - what the frightening sounds being carried through the small passageway were all about - I slowly turned my head towards the voice.

Dresden was looking at me, his face hidden in shadows, his features neutral.

"Attacked," I said, my voice detached, my mouth parched. I licked my cracked lips and repeated, "Attacked. We are being attacked."

The small fine hairs on my arms were standing straight up as we were immersed in the sounds of shuffling feet, yelling, bangs, screams and electricity. Out of the corner of my eye I saw flashes of light repeatedly brightening the inside of the passageway from which I'd been extracted.

My anguish was increasing exponentially with every second, the fear of what was happening making my heart throb with an unhealthy rhythm.

There had been a whisper at the back of my mind that was rapidly growing louder.

 _Max could die. Max could die. Max could die._

The phrase was filling my head, paralyzing my body, weakening my legs.

I swayed, everything becoming too much for me to handle, and would have collapsed on the ground had Dresden not grabbed my arms and - with single-minded determination - directed me over towards Maria's unconscious body.

I could feel the strength in his body as he pressed down on the top of my shoulders and firmly - but still surprisingly gently - made me sit down next to Maria. My legs didn't have the strength to resist.

"Wait here," Dresden ordered shortly, and numbly I nodded that I had understood.

With that, he left me.

What followed were the most terrifying minutes of my existence. Even worse than what I had endured at the hands of Steven and Sean Carter in captivity.

I was left alone with my comatose friend, seated on a cold dirt ground with wounds on large parts of my body and a mixture of exhaustion and shock incapacitating my body. The tunnel we had reached was just as large as the one we had left. And just as dark. The only light came from the flashes from the passageway on the wall opposite to where they had placed Maria.

Sitting there, I realized that I would be dead if an enemy came through the passageway. I would have no way of defending myself. I wouldn't be able to run to save myself, because that would mean leaving Maria. Something that would be impossible for me to do. I would rather die with Maria than to leave her alone and indirectly sacrifice her to the enemy.

Because there was no way I could carry Maria. She was bigger than me, and she would be like dead weight in her unconscious condition.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the passageway, my nerves holding my heart in a death grip. I was wound so tightly that I might actually jump out of my skin if someone were to come through the opening; friend or foe.

In a way, the horrible sounds coming from there were a comfort. Because as long as there were sounds, neither side had won. The silence that was bound to come then was what was frightening me.

But at the same time, I wished I never had been forced to hear those sounds. I tried not to focus on any voices, because I didn't want to recognize any cries of death from someone I knew.

The seconds dragged on. My tight and adrenaline-saturated body jumped at every sharp sound, at every loud scream. I wanted to cover my face in my hands, drown out the sound with my hands, escape my surroundings.

But I couldn't tear my eyes away.

As I sat there listening to the minor war raging on the other side of the dirt wall, the shock started to retreat and my survival instinct - with its accompanied sharp rational thinking - was creeping back.

I jumped from my seat as if someone had flipped a switch.

I needed to get away from there. I needed to find a place where I could see the passageway - and who was coming out of it - without them being able to see me. I needed to find a place where I was less exposed.

Suddenly, with a purpose in my mind, it was no problem to tear my eyes away from that fearsome, flashing opening.

Up ahead, I spotted a sharp turn to the tunnel, where there was an indent in the wall of the corner. The rectangular depression in the middle of the wall should make it possible for me to conceal Maria and myself in the turn of the tunnel, while at the same time providing me with a view through the hollow without having to stick my head around the corner, thus risking revealing my presence.

The pain in my feet ignored, I hurried to the top of Maria's head, grabbed her cold limb arms and wrapped my hands tightly around her wrists.

Then I started to pull.

They say that adrenaline can give you superhuman strength, and perhaps that was what gave my beat-up body the ability to drag Maria out of there.

With something to do - the opportunity to affect my own fate giving me a small sense of power - my mind started to think clearly. The fog that had been brought on by fear, helplessness and confusion dispersed, leaving only sharp determination and survival instinct.

I found myself approaching the situation as I would a science project in school. Step by step. Methodically. Calculated. As I pulled the unresponsive Maria across the ground, her body rustling as it moved over bumps and the occasional stones, I wondered if she would ever be able to wake up on her own. If the aliens were to wipe each other out, would she remain forever in an alien-induced coma?

Or was her consciousness time-stamped? Would she suddenly sit up and start screaming, attracting the attention of the enemies on the other side?

Part of calming myself down resulted in me attempting to search Max out. Search out our bond. Max had kept it muted, subdued, controlled. I wasn't sure why, and it frustrated me some. Because wasn't it for moments like these that he would be benefiting from having a connection with me? Wasn't this the main reason why alien military men wanted to bond with me? To win wars?

So why wasn't Max using it? Why was he still partially blocking me?

I could feel that things were happening to his body. I could sense the ghostly whispers of punches to my abdomen, sharp objects slicing through my skin, focal points of increased heat. But they were so mild that I knew he was blocking me.

Perhaps that was his only reason. Because he was stubbornly protecting me. Protecting me from pain when I should be the one helping to keep him safe. And, obviously, if I could help to keep him safe there would be no pain. For neither of us.

I wasn't really focused on Maria as I pulled her around the corner, pushed her prone body up against the wall to make sure that she wasn't spotted from the passageway. I wasn't focusing on my friend because I was getting increasingly angry.

Anger was good. Anger felt a lot better than that gnawing worry.

I was getting worked up about Max still shutting me out. About him not trusting in the connection and not trusting in _my_ strength. I could handle the pain. Especially if that was what it took to keep him alive. Didn't he understand that I would be in more pain were he to die? Especially with the knowledge that I could have prevented his death.

Making sure that I didn't step on Maria, I positioned myself behind the corner, bending slightly at the knees to be able to see through the depression in the wall. My eyes fixed on the opening to the passageway while my mind worked fervently and my body heated up with frustration.

The physical blows kept landing on my body, making me tremble and sometimes jump. I could feel his exhaustion in my very bones, but instead of making me tired along with him, it seemed to ignite some latent energy reserve in my very core.

With my eyes on the flashing hole, my mind went to work on Max's block. Subconsciously, I knew that his chances of keeping me out were small considering that he was getting tired and because his attention was on the struggle rather than on keeping mental blocks up.

A part of me - the not angry part of me - hoped that I wouldn't disturb his concentration and put him in jeopardy by working through the walls around his mind.

It was almost disturbingly easy to get through the barrier.

But the connection left me no chance to ponder this, since I was hit with all of Max's emotions, the nerve sensations from his injuries and his sharp strategic thoughts.

The world tilted around me and I might have lost my vision for a second (it was hard to tell considering the general darkness I was in), before my legs went out and I crumbled to the ground. I fell on Maria's feet, the pain from my neck bending unnaturally across her ankles, bringing me back to focus.

I gritted my teeth and rolled off Maria with a groan. I gave her a fleeting look, wondering if I had injured her feet, before Max's voice boomed through the connection, _Liz, get out!_

I was so relieved to hear his voice that even his obvious anger was like bliss.

 _Max..._ An quick mental sigh. _You're okay._

I was rather certain I would have felt if something really bad had happened to him, but it was still really great to hear his voice. So great that I was struggling to not break down and cry.

But I couldn't break down now. It would put Max's life in danger. Even more than it already was.

 _What if they can somehow hurt you through the connection?_ Max said tersely.

I ignored his scolding. Ignored the primal fear in his mind about my safety. _What's happening? How many are there? What can I do to help?_

 _You'll do best to stay out of this,_ Max replied, his 'voice' softening even when it was still tense.

 _Stop being an idiot!_ I cried out, probably surprising him just as much as I surprised myself. My patience was at an end. I would not let his stubbornness and caveman attitude be the death of him.

So before he could protest, I told him clearly, _Use. My. Energy._

 _Liz-_

I cut him off with a, _We're in this together, remember? This is what we've been fighting for. We haven't gone through all of this just so that we can die separately!_

He was listening. I could hear him pausing, even though his mind was still tracking the activity around him. And while he was pausing, I closed my eyes and focused my whole attention on him.

On his smell. On his smile. On the touch of his fingers against my skin. On his warmth. On his weight on top of me when we made love. On his hugs, his laughter, his teasing, his consideration, his empathy, his love, his integrity, his strength. I let the essence of him fill me up.

The pain in my body was forgotten. I no longer felt the damp and cold compacted dirt against my hands as I leaned into the wall. I lost awareness of the cramping in my legs due to my semi-hunched position to be able to see through the depression in the wall. I was no longer aware of Maria's presence on the ground behind me.

Instead I softened into the connection. Maybe I was becoming energy. Not handing my energy over to him, but rather melting our energies together.

Possibly it could be the work of the connection, which was guiding me on how to keep 'the three of us' alive, because it was suddenly very natural to me what to do. How to melt our minds together to become one.

I felt how that merged energy started to strengthen him, empower him.

Which meant that I also felt when it was sharply cut off. When the mental rope between our minds was severed.

A sharp jolt of...nothingness rocked my being and my fingers automatically dug into the wall to brace myself against the onslaught of immediate anguished feelings.

My eyes flew open, my mind desperately screaming for Max as it searched through his absence. Had he cut me off? Had he managed to block me?

But why would he block me? I had felt him accept my energy. Accept the merge.

Had something happened? Was he injured?

With trembling hands I took a step back from the wall to step around the corner, while I tried to ignore what I had felt just before the connection had...died.

A sharp painful blazing heat in the center of my abdomen. A pain that had ended just as quickly as it had emerged.

Somehow, without having been aware of doing it, I had walked on unsteady, throbbing feet to the opening to the passageway. My body was swaying softly from side to side, as if I was intoxicated, while I was in shocked pain from the absence in my body. Like my heart had just been ripped out.

I stood, staring down at the opening, my breath picking up in increasing agitation as I waited for the next flash.

But it never came. The flashes that had blinked from the passageway - and had signaled the ongoing battle - had ended.

I had no idea who long I stood there. I had lost all sense of time. My body felt numb. Dead.

There was only one phrase running through my head:

 _I'm alone. I'm alone. I'm alone._

Because with every silent second passing I became even more convinced that they were all dead. That my childhood friend was dead. That the weird boy at Roswell High was dead. That the leader of an alien rebellion was dead.

That the most important person in my life was dead. The love of my life. My soulmate. My loving healing alien.

My parim.

A full warm tear escaped my eye and slowly rolled down my blackened cheek. It was silently followed by a second and then a third. Every single one of them produced in silence. In deafened grief. In shocked 'This can't be happening'.

So when the first sound from the passageway in almost a minute bounced off the walls and reached me on the other side, my heart almost jumped out of my chest.

Fear like I'd never felt it before shot straight through me and catapulted me backwards, making me run backwards in a couple of staggering steps with my eyes on the opening of the passageway, before turning around and sprinting as fast as my legs and feet would allow towards the spot where I had left Maria.

The blood was rushing in my head and I was so afraid that I couldn't even breathe. I felt like I would die of fear at any second. How much more would I be able to handle?

I was just about to round the corner when my name was yelled through the tunnel.

"Liiiz! Wait!"

A large wave of trembles rushed through me at the voice. Alex. The trembles turned my legs into jello and I sank to my knees, my back to the passageway and to Alex.

 _Alex is alive. Alex is alive._

Inexplicable happiness was exploding inside of me. If someone asked me to describe it, it would have been impossible. To be given hope in the midst of complete darkness. To be given the opportunity to get out of there. To survive. To hear that a person you thought was certainly dead is alive...

"Liz!"

And then I heard not only the letters he had used and the name he had screamed, but the feeling behind them.

Desperation.

I tried to will my body to move, to get back on my feet, but Alex was faster.

He was behind me in no time, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. "We need you."

I staggered before I managed to turn around to face him. A new wave of emotion washed over me at the sight of his damaged face and I took a step backwards, trying to get away.

"Liz..."

His voice was the same, but his mouth wasn't. The left corner of his mouth looked...melted. It was hanging down with the rest of his cheek. Blood was running down the side of his throat and his teeth were colored pink from blood where the melted lip failed to cover them.

A memory from a dream about my mother's face melting while standing in front of me flashed through my mind and I had to fight with everything inside of me to not scream.

My body was shaking as I slowly looked up his face, at the red and blistered left side of his head, where hair was missing. Burnt off.

How was he walking around? How was he talking?

He must know how badly he was hurt, or else he wouldn't be looking at me with such fearful desperation. But he wasn't the issue. He wasn't the one who needed my attention.

He told me as much when he turned to look over his shoulder towards the opening of the small passageway, just as Michael crawled out and reached inside the passageway to pull at something. _Someone._

I felt Alex look back at my face, but I kept my eyes on the activity at the passageway. Because even in the darkness I recognized the arms being pulled on by Michael. I recognized the dark mop of hair that was becoming visible as the - obviously unconscious - person was being extracted from the small opening inch by inch.

Max.

Max Max Max.

"Lizzie," I heard Alex say slowly, just as Max's chest and then abdomen were revealed and I heard someone scream. A loud frightened scream from the deepest parts of something very primal.

I distantly realized that it was I who was screaming, right as I was falling to my knees and my scream turned into agonized loud sobs.

When I stared at the cavity in Max's abdomen, with the hint of exposed intestines and smoke still rising from the corners of the wound, I was certain that I was looking at Max's corpse.

But then Alex said, "We need you to heal Max."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for reading :-) Please let me know what you think!_

 _*hugs*_  
 _Jo_


	93. NINETY-THREE

_Aby - Thank you **so** much for the feedback! _

* * *

**NINETY-THREE**

"Calm her down, Alex."

Dresden's voice sounded far away. Everything was far away. The world was dim and subdued. The only thing that felt real was the pressure of my nails as they dug into the soft beaten tissue of my upper arms as I wrapped my arms tightly around myself.

With the slow rocking back and forth of my body, and my eyes stinging from being left without blinking for too long, I was back to the day when I had lost my mom. I was watching the raging fire devour my house. I was searching through flames and heat, through black suffocating smoke, to find my mother. I was being pushed up against a wall, restrained as Sean assaulted me and forced himself inside my mind. I was watching Max get shot by Sean. I was watching him get knifed by Sean. I was watching the blood pour out of the boy that had fought to secretly protect me my whole life. I was being held captive by aliens. I was almost getting raped, almost strangled, almost killed. Through Steven Carter's memories, I was watching my mother get raped and suffer one miscarriage after the other.

"She's in shock. I'm... It's too... It's difficult to get through."

"We need her. Now. He's dying."

The shadows of my dark memories were lurking around the fringes of my inner eye as I kept staring at the wound in Max's abdomen. But 'wound' would be an understatement. _Gaping hole_ would be more accurate. How he was alive was beyond me.

However, judging from the urgency in the aliens around me, Max was obviously still alive.

I wanted to help him. I was fueled with a pulsating very demanding need to help him, but I couldn't get myself to function. I was shutting down. Disappearing inside of myself again.

It was as if I had that same hole in me. There was something really important missing from my soul. Something that I desperately needed right now. Something I desperately needed to function.

I couldn't get my mind around what they meant by me _healing_ Max. I had healed a cut on his hand _once,_ but I'm pretty sure _any_ alien would do a better job than me at fixing Max right now.

I was no alien. I was no healer. Why were the assuming that I was?

Then two rough impatient hands were ripping me up by the elbows, holding me in the air when my feet refused to support my weight.

In the midst of the chaos in my heart, the fog in my mind, the frozen state of my soul, I could feel a warm soothing calmness. It made it difficult for me to breathe. It overwhelmed me and left me shaking with emotional overload. But it also succeeded in calming me down. In making me focus.

Enough to make me aware of my surroundings. I noticed Dresden's long warm fingers circled around my upper arm. I noticed his other hand holding Alex's upper arm in a similar fashion. I looked at Alex long enough to see the concentration on his face and discern that Dresden was magnifying Alex's powers, helping Alex to calm me down, before I had to look away from the sight of Alex's distorted face to not immediately lose that wobbly acquired calmness.

"Better?" Dresden asked and I nodded.

It was better. But there was still a hole in my boyfriend's abdomen. A hole they wanted me to mend.

And my body was finally understanding what my mind wanted. To get close to Max. To make him better. To talk to him. To comfort him. To make him feel safe.

To heal him.

I ripped out of Dresden's hold and willed my feet to get to work. The walk to Max was a stumbling mess, but after what felt like an eternity, I fell to my knees next to his head.

I avoided looking down his body. I needed to focus. And to do so, I needed to ignore the fact that he was no longer intact.

Instead I looked at his face. He was dirty, almost black, and there were patches of dry blood on his cheeks, on his forehead. It made it impossible for me to evaluate his coloring. His eyes were closed, his lips parted. But his face was unharmed.

I bit my lower lip and cradled his cheek in my shaking hand as I leaned over him. My silent tears were landing on his face in large droplets, running down his cheeks and forehead, creating disordered streaks in the dirt covering his skin.

"Max?" I called in a whisper.

But he wasn't there.

It was like looking at a shell. A shell that looked like Max but wasn't Max.

Panic flew through me. _He's dead._ I looked down at his chest, grateful that it was difficult to see the injury to his abdomen from this angle, and placed my palm against his chest. To feel his breaths.

While my mind was continually searching for his mind through our once shared mental bond, my panic was building to horrifying proportions - making my throat close up - as I waited to feel any breaths.

I tasted blood on my tongue as I bit hard into my bottom lip to stop myself from collapsing into debilitating sobs.

 _You're not breathing. You're not breathing. Breathe, Max. Breathe. Don't leave me, please. You can't be dead. Please. Max. Please, breathe. Please._

And there it was. That small, barely noticeable, rise of his chest in a shallow random breath.

It was like everything inside of my imploded and I refocused my eyes on his face, pressed tear-stained lips to his dry ones in a relieved kiss (which felt odd without him reciprocating), before I buried my face in the curve of his neck to search out his familiar warmth.

But he was uncharacteristically cold.

 _Max. You're safe. You're here. Fight. You hear me? Fight!_

I didn't know why I was trying to communicate telepathically when I knew that something had happened to the connection, which meant that he might not be hearing me. But it felt more important somehow to use the connection. As if it was important to fight for it to come back. To not give up on it.

I knew that they were watching me. Dresden. Alex. Maybe even Michael.

I was consoled by the fact that they were giving me some space and time. I knew that time was of the essence, but for this to work I needed to find myself again. Maybe they knew that. Hopefully they knew that as a human being this situation - and what they were asking from me - was not only frighteningly alien, but also bordering on impossible.

I kept my face pressed against Max's skin and tried to focus on calming myself down. I tried to will myself to switch on my scientific and rational mindset in order to figure out how to go about healing Max. As they had requested.

Not many seconds had passed before the urgency of the situation was enough to drown me. That calmness I was searching for was nowhere. All I could feel was stressed panic about the fact that I was suddenly the only thing standing in the way of Max dying. That I literally had his life in my hands.

"I can't heal," I got out, my voice muted by Max's skin against my lips, feeling stupid for voicing it, because they should know this fact.

"You're connected to Max," Dresden said behind me, as if that statement alone refuted my inability to heal. "That's the main part." His voice sounded distant. "You just need our help to boost your energy, since Max is incapacitated."

A memory from a cold basement where Isabel had helped me supply Max with warmth flashed through my mind.

But there was a massive difference between giving someone warmth and knitting their tissue together.

"He'll die," Dresden pointed out grimly.

Anger flashed through my system and I lifted my head from Max's prone head and glared up at Dresden furiously, "Don't you think I know that?! There's a fucking hole in him!"

Time was running out for Max and they weren't doing anything to help. How dare they put it all on my shoulders?!

I felt my newfound resolve breaking, the previous small dose of calmness supplied by an extraterrestrial influence baring the way for grief. Positioned on my knees, I straightened up next to Max and pointed accusingly at first Dresden and then Alex, who were looming over me in the darkness, "You were supposed to protect him! He was not to get hurt! He's _important_ , remember?!"

My breath hitched on my sobs and I was about to continue my angry rant when Michael appeared in front of Dresden and Alex - blocking my view - leaned down and grabbed my arm to tighten steely fingers around my tired muscles before using the hold to give my upper body a violent shake.

Droplets of saliva flew in my face as he pushed his face an inch from mine and spit out heatedly, _"Get a fucking grip, woman! Who the fuck cares! You need to fix him! NOW!"_

"Hey!" Dresden cried, removing Michael's red face from my view.

But Michael was already stepping back, his head whipping from side to side. He seemed momentarily lost and I was still too stunned by his intimidating savagery to retaliate.

My anger was still there though and I was just about to shout at them to help me, when Michael said, "Where's Blondie?"

His question infuriated me further and I looked back at Max's unresponsive features to gain a second to reign my anger back in. I was smart enough to know that it might not be a good thing to get Michael too riled up in this situation. He seemed too...irrational.

"Maria," I heard Alex clarify, even though I'd had a suspicion who 'Blondie' was. And not just because she was literally the only blonde person in our present group constellation.

I couldn't look at Alex. His melted face was horribly frightening. Instead I blindly pointed in the direction of the turn of the tunnel. "She's over there."

"Alone?" Michael grumbled and from the sound of quick steps I deduced that he was already moving in that direction.

With Michael gone, I looked back up at Dresden, narrowed my eyes, and let my anger flow through, "You need to help me heal him. Right now. He's dying."

Dresden's face darkened, but he sat down next to me without a word. Nevertheless, it was almost as if I could read on his face that he wanted to tell me, "That's what I've been saying all along," but he remained quiet.

Max was our main focus right now.

"We need to switch," Dresden said and I looked from Max's face to Dresden's, acutely aware of the feel of Max's skin underneath my fingers as they pressed to his cheek.

"You need to be close to the wound," Dresden explained further.

I nodded. Of course.

Not trusting my legs, I decided to crawl around Dresden and place myself straight in front of the wound.

The nausea came instantly.

Max wasn't bleeding much. Whatever had burnt a hole through him had probably also cauterized the organs it had hit. Closing the bleeders at the same time as it had opened them. But even if he wasn't bleeding to death, he needed his organs to survive. And compared to the fetal pig Max and I had dissected together in school not too long ago, Max's insides looked like someone had placed them inside a microwave and turned the dial to the highest capacity.

I swallowed back the acidic gastric fluid so many times that I was eventually doing it unknowingly. It seemed that once I had started looking at Max's injury, I couldn't look away. In the midst of feeling the cold sweat dampen my back, and my fear keeping my nausea on the brink of exploding, I was hit with an overwhelming grief.

A sadness that someone had done this to Max. Had destroyed his beautiful body like this. Had attempted to end his life (and might still be successful at that). Had attempted to remove his beautiful presence from this world.

I placed chilled fingers against the side of his abdomen, just an inch from the wound, and felt coldness fuel me. A hatred I had never known before started to seep into me, before it flooded me like an unforgiving tsunami.

"Is he dead?" I pressed out dispassionately through my tight lips.

"No," Dresden answered, misunderstanding me, "He's still alive. But we have to move fast. He won't be for too much longer."

The hatred was clogging up my throat, putting up walls around my heart, stiffening my body. Even my voice felt foreign as I enunciated blankly, "Not Max. _Him._ The..." I had almost said 'person', but that was the wrong word, " _monster_ who did this to him."

There was a loaded pause before Dresden answered. Then, "Yes. He's dead."

The satisfaction I felt at this was too small, too fleeting, too worthless. It did nothing to retreat my anger. Still, I stated hard-set, "Good."

Dresden shuffled in his seat next to me. "Listen to me, Elizabeth. I know you're upset right now. I know you are confused and probably feeling every emotion known to a human, but for this to work - for you to even have a chance at bringing him back - you need to focus on good things. You can't heal with black energy. You can't heal an act of malicious violence with sadness or hatred. You have to search deep inside of you and find the love and compassion you have for Max. And let that guide you. If you do, it'll come naturally."

My heart burnt. My unshed tears were caustic to my eyes.

"As stupid as it might sound, you have to heal him with love."

The hatred eased off. The darkness paralyzing my mind pulled back on the pressure.

My tongue got stuck to the dried roof of my mouth, which had me make a clicking noise with my first word as my tongue detached from the palate, "It's not..." I swallowed. "It's not stupid."

I looked over at him. At this alien who I didn't really know, who seemed a lot nicer than any other alien of his generation that I had encountered so far.

He even attempted a soft smile as our eyes met. A twitch of the mouth to make me feel better. To support me in this. To give me strength.

"It actually makes a lot of sense," I whispered, holding his eyes.

I didn't flinch when he reached over and took my free hand (my other hand still pressed against the unharmed part of Max's abdomen). I immediately felt comforted by the warmth of Dresden's palm and with a shaky breath I closed my eyes and returned my attention to the wound.

I let my eyes remain closed and started to focus on my breathing. Just like Isabel had taught me during yoga.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Iiiinhale.

Exhaaale.

Iiiinhaaale.

Exhaaaaaale.

My pulse was slowing down. My mind was clearing. And I could feel tingles in my hand where it was connected to Dresden. It was almost painful. Like when you got an electric shock from touching something that had built up static energy.

My instinct was to pull my hand away, but I bit back the uncomfortable sensation of the current, and after a few seconds the electricity fortunately ebbed and turned into simple warmth.

Behind my closed eyelids I started to visualize zippers, tape, glue, bandages. Just any tool that could be used to fix a hole. Because that went along the lines of what I had done to heal that tiny cut in Max's hand previously. In other words, it was the only method of healing that I was familiar with.

I tried to conjure up the mental image of Max's injury - because I couldn't find the courage to actually look at the wound in real life - and then fastened a large imaginary white zipper at the bottom of his injury, at level with his bellybutton.

Both of my hands - one holding Dresden's and one pressed up against Max's skin - began to heat up, and I held my breath as I saw the zipper move upwards in my mind, tucking Max's organs away, repairing his skin.

The image had come to me so naturally that it easily could have been mistaken for being reality, which made it so much harder to accept that Max's injury was unchanged when I opened my eyes to check.

The panic that flooded me at my failure was so thick that it drowned out any disappointment or self-criticism I might be expected to feel. Instead I basically saw Max dying in front of me. I saw his skin turn even whiter. I saw his dried and unmoving lips blanch.

And the wound seemed even more detailed and present than before.

There was absolutely no improvement. I hadn't healed him. And now he was going to die.

Dresden's hand felt even warmer than before, as if his energy was fueling my mortification, and the panic was rushing through me with a full-fledged panic attack being the ultimate destination.

"I can't," I got out, the pressure over my chest threatening to make me break. "You have to try. You have to try."

Dresden had sounded so certain when he had given me instructions on how to do it, he himself must know how to do it. Even if he only knew it in theory it must be better than what I knew.

"We have to do everything to help him," I added, talking quickly now, the panic speeding up my words, making my voice breathless. "Even if we don't think it'll work, we have to try it. We have to-"

And then Alex placed his hand on my shaking shoulder, soothing the most abrasive points of my panic, making me lose track of what I was saying.

Every single word spoken by his familiar gentle voice shouted with brisk clarity straight into my system, "Try it again, Lizzie. Don't think about it. Don't make it scientific. Just think about Max. About who he is. About what you feel for him. Let it fill you up. That's all you need to think about. No medical or surgical facts. Turn your brain off and let your heart lead."

Tears were running unhindered down my cheeks as I looked up at my childhood friend. I almost ( _almost_ ) didn't notice his injuries this time, seeing only the support and love in his eyes.

His voice softened further and he nodded encouragingly in Max's direction, "Trust me. It'll work. You're the most amazing human being I've ever met. If anyone can do this, it's _you_."

Even though I knew that he was using his powers on me, to push my panic away, there was nothing fake about the love I was seeing in his eyes. It was all real. And it was thrumming into my heart, making it alive again.

I had lost my way there for a second, being submerged in darkness, but Alex was leading me home. Pointing out the light to me again.

So this time, with Alex's touch on my shoulder, Dresden's energy feeding into me through our connected hands, and my hand pressed to Max's skin, I didn't think about Max's injury when I closed my eyes. I didn't try to figure out how to heal him.

This time I focused only on _Max_. On everything that made Max into the person that I loved with every cell in my body.

And I could feel it happening inside of me. The same thing that I had felt thrumming through me just before Max had been injured. Energy. Pure, untainted, energy. Bright and warm. _Healing_.

I was partly aware of Dresden sharply letting go of my hand and Alex's hand dropping off my shoulder, as if they had been repelled.

But it failed to engage my attention, because two seconds after that a voice I had longed to hear for what seemed to be an eternity spoke directly into my head.

Three simple words that had the power to save my whole existence.

 _I love you._


	94. NINETY-FOUR

_Child of Music and Dreams - Thank you :)_

* * *

 **NINETY-FOUR**

My eyes sprung open in surprised shock and I found myself enveloped by glitter.

I blinked, acutely aware of the buzz in my mind - like white noise - and quickly assessed my surroundings.

No, it wasn't glitter. But it could easily be mistaken for it since the air around me seemed to shimmer. Almost sparkle. Judging by my difficulty to see the details of the people around me, I suspected that there was some kind of barrier between me and them. Like the alien force field.

But when I looked down at Max, I realized that he was with me on the 'inside' because his eyes were clear and distinct as they connected with mine.

The sight of his eyes, being wide open, gave me a jolt and my lungs sharply expanded.

My throat instantly clogged up, my eyes filled with tears, and all I could manage was a mentally whispered, _Hi,_ while my mind was going insane. Uncontrolled happiness was exploding inside of me, making my thoughts scream at each other in some comical inner dialogue of ecstasy.

 _Oh my God. He's awake. He's awake._

 _He's here._

 _Did I heal him? Is he okay?_

And so on.

The next second, when he lifted his hand to shakily brush it against my cheek, and his eyes glittered with emotion and awe, my mind grew silent and my tears spilled down my cheeks as my eyes drifted closed in relieved disbelieving gratitude.

The trembles of his hand against my face accentuated the fact that I myself was quavering.

The world outside of our shimmering bubble didn't exist. It was only the two of us. Now more than ever before.

I lifted my hand to cradle the back of his against my cheek, pressing myself against his presence. Trying to absorb him through my skin. Through that simple point of contact.

But it was nothing simple. Something powerful, something very tangible, was growing and pulsating where our skin touched.

"You're glowing."

His voice was subdued, barely there, thick and raspy. As if he hadn't used it for years. But it was music to my ears. It flowed against my essence like the smoothest of chocolate.

It made me open my eyes again to look at him. I wondered if he had even blinked during these few seconds, or if his eyes had remained strictly attached to my face.

Hearing his voice brought me back to reality. Made it all the more real. Made every emotion that I had been keeping a firm lid on boil over. Which is why it suddenly all became too much. The fear, the pain, the worry, the relief, and the pure happiness.

My wet face brushed against his as I leaned forward and buried my face into the crook of his neck. My sobs were loud and violent, shaking my body, burning through my chest.

I pushed my hands beneath his neck, behind his shoulders, and pulled him closer. Clinging to him. I was acutely aware of my weight on top of his chest. I was afraid that I was hurting him, but at the same time I couldn't get myself to consider that he might not be fully healed. That there might still be a hole in him. That he had contacted me through our bond 'too early' and thus interrupting the healing process.

I didn't want to look at his abdomen and find out that he might only be conscious for a short while, before his injury would end him. I didn't want to entertain the possibility that this might be his final goodbye.

Because there was a very real possibility that my energy - and the energy supplied by Dresden and Alex - had only been enough to bring Max back to consciousness.

But I refused to think about that.

Instead I pressed my nose firmly against his skin, ignored how his neck almost chilled the tip of my nose rather than heat it like it normally would, and tried to catch some breaths between the sobs.

I didn't want to leave this moment. This feeling of his arm wrapping around the back of my shoulders and pressing me close, overriding my fear of crushing him.

I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but our minds were silent. Calm in the presence of each other. Just reveling in the feel of holding one another and breathing in the smell of each other's proximity.

I think he was crying too. Because wetness was running down the side of my ear, wetting the edges of my hairline.

Eventually my sobs quieted. Eventually the emotions calmed down to more reasonable levels. Eventually I started placing small brief kisses against his skin, feeling only one emotion drowning everything else out.

Love.

"You did it," he whispered then, his voice more affected than before.

"What?" I asked quietly.

I felt drained. All I wanted to do was to align our bodies together, wrap my arms around him and fall into him.

"You healed me." His voice was breathless. Wondrous.

His tone made me pull back enough to be able to look down at him and was immediately zinged by the heat in his eyes. The heat that spoke directly to my core. The heat that - in the midst of the danger we were in and the life-threatening situation we had cornered ourselves into - was telling me to take my clothes off and make love to him. To connect with that primal, deeply emotional part of him. To feel connected again.

It took a monumental effort to tear my eyes from his and look down his body. To confirm what he had just claimed.

I stared at the now intact skin of the middle of his body and slowly wet my lips. "How?"

His eyes were burning against the side of my face as I traced the contours of his muscled abdomen. My inner eye could still see the injury, even though it was - actually - completely gone.

"I never would have believed it, if..." his voice trailed off. He was just as perplexed as I was.

"I healed you," I said, deliberately tasting the meaning of that sentence.

There was a short pause, in which we both reacquainted ourselves with the reality that I had somehow managed to heal a vast, life-threatening, injury. Me, a human being.

Then Max's lips tenderly pressed against my cheek and I naturally turned in his direction, connecting our lips together. Even though his lips were colder than usual and almost cracked from dryness, it was an indescribable sensation. To taste him, to feel the gentleness of his kiss, to touch the tip of my tongue to his, to get caught up in the kiss and press firmer, pull his upper lip between my warm lips, to feel the heat build between our bodies, to feel his lips getting warmer by the second and his hands around my body turn both restless and stronger.

He got up on his knees, taking us to the same level, making it possible for me to wrap my arms around his shoulders and bury my hands in the nape of his hair, while his arms encircled my waist and aligned my chest and stomach with his.

While our lips caressed and our tongues made love, Max's hands moved along the lining of my jeans, restlessly moving up underneath my sweater, tracing up my spine and spreading out across my shoulder blades.

We had no thoughts about where we were. We were no longer aware of the fact that we were not alone. We had (conveniently) forgotten that we needed to get moving, that our lives might still be threatened. That it was no longer safe here.

Well, it passed our attention until Michael started yelling.

"What the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?! How am I supposed to protect you if you can't keep your hands off each other?! Even when we have a fucking target on our heads?!"

I ripped my head back, Max being slower, Max knew to ignore Michael, even in the heat of danger.

I had time to see the shimmer around us shine brighter, before it vanished like smoke. With my cheeks heating with residual passion, I looked back at Max, suspecting that he'd had something to do with the disappearance of the shimmer (whatever it had been).

There was a small smile on his lips, his eyes probably never having left my face. And against my better judgement, considering the seriousness of the situation that Michael was quite blatantly referring to, I felt the corners of my mouth turn upwards in a matching smile.

And we were back to being inside our 'personal bubble'. With a frustrated tall alien outside, who was most likely mentally tapping his foot impatiently against the ground at our inability to focus on the task at hand.

Someone cleared their throat, and revealed his identity by following up with, "That's incredible. You actually... You actually healed him. Completely. I didn't think you'd be able to completely heal him."

I looked at Dresden, tried to read his face, feeling the increasing warmth from Max's palms still rubbing up and down my back. And in the silence of observing the awe residing deeply in the senior alien's facial features, I realized that my thoughts were no longer solitary. It was no longer that I could hear Max's thoughts communicating with mine, our thoughts dueling with each other in subconscious dialogues. Now it was more like our thoughts were blending. Or more like synchronizing. Yes, that was Max's word for it. _Synchronizing_. That we were getting on the same wavelength. Not that one thought was obliterating the other but more aligning us along the same frequency.

It took me by surprise, interrupted my _(our)_ train of thought. But as my panic rushed through me and the thoughts flew through my head ( _would I not be able to think my own thoughts any longer? Would I lose my own identity? Was I merging with Max?_ ), I realized that I obviously still could _think_. That I could still get my thoughts through. If they screamed loud enough, they were being noticed as thoughts that were clearly my own.

But now, Max's presence in my mind soothed my fears. Instead of calming me down by distinct thoughts (as if he was speaking to me directly), it was an awareness rather than a thought. A guided feeling.

It reminded me of Alex's power. How he would gently nudge your feelings in the right direction. But just like with Alex, I still had the power - the ability - to stop where Max's influence was taking me if I didn't want to go in that direction.

This realization - along with Max's newfound calmness about our connection (where had that come from?) - pushed away my momentary panic over the risk of losing who I was. Losing the right to my own will or the control over my own mind.

"She _is_ amazing," Max told Dresden, still looking at me. Still making sure that I remained calm.

Max had reached a state of tranquility inside of him that was starting to intrigue me. As though he had not just come to peace with the connection, but had embraced it fully.

He had finally realized that it was a positive force which would bring us closer. To make us stronger. To make us survive.

He had done a complete one-eighty on me.

Now _I_ was the hesitant one.

"We have removed the most pressing threat, but we need to get away from here."

I shivered with coldness at Alex's voice. It sounded even more mangled, more garbled, than previously. Maybe his desperation to get me to heal Max had strengthen his voice momentarily, maybe he had gotten worse in the time that I was healing Max, or maybe I just hadn't noticed before.

But as Max and I turned our heads in unison towards Alex, gastric fluid rose in my throat so abruptly that I had to swallow rapidly to stop myself from throwing up.

It was not only his mouth and cheek that were drooping now. Even his bottom eyelid was hanging low, making his eye seem exposed and vulnerable, the whiteness of the eye globe tainted with red. I was suddenly afraid that he might be losing his eye. That it might pop out of the socket at any time.

Why was it that his injuries were progressively becoming worse, even when he was no longer under attack?

But I already knew the answer, because Max knew the answer.

Alex had been hit by an energy blast. The same type that Max had used out in the pelting rain, which had blown up rocks. The energy was so concentrated that it heated and melted. The heat remained within the cells for a long time. Like an old electric radiator that took forever to cool off.

Nausea made my knees weak. Tempted me to double over and empty my stomach content on the dirt ground. Because the truth was that Alex was still burning. He was still being burnt alive.

I couldn't even imagine the pain. I couldn't understand how he could be standing. How he could be talking. How he wasn't curled up in fetal position and screaming in terrorizing agony while his face continued to melt.

I couldn't understand how he could be so adamant at putting Max first. For us to focus on bringing Max back rather than helping him feel better.

But the explanation was rather obvious.

Max was their only healer right now, since his father had taken a different route with Isabel, Diane and my father when our hiding place had been exposed.

In order to heal anyone else, they needed Max.

But even if it was indirectly a way to make himself better, I was looking at Alex in a completely new light. His silent stoic strength made my heart fill with pride and humility. It more firmly emphasized what I had always known - even before I knew of his true identity. That Alex was a strong and kind soul. Someone who put others before himself.

So it was no discussion between our minds when Max and I got to our feet and immediately grabbed Alex's arms, one each, and pulled him close to us.

One burnt off eyebrow and one intact rose in surprise at our common action, but Alex let us position him between us. His arm felt solid and real in my grip and I was secretly relieved that I was holding onto Alex's right arm, not his left. Because the left side of his body was worryingly injured. At least from his left shoulder and up.

This was similar to how I had looked when I had gone into a burning house to search for my mother. I could see it now: Max's memory of that event was at the front of his mind, which meant that it was at the front of _my_ mind.

The main differences being that I had been almost naked, the clothes having either been completely burnt off or had melted into my burnt skin, and the burns had covered almost every inch of my body.

It was still more troubling to see Alex like this than to see myself - through Max's inner eye - like that. I hated to see other people in pain, especially people that I loved. I'd rather have myself injured than any of the people close to me.

Max had wrapped his long dirtied fingers around the unharmed part of Alex's left arm and simultaneously reached out to wrap his fingers around my free hand. And so, we formed a circle.

I looked from Alex to Max's face, watched Max's lips mouth "I love you", felt the love explode inside of me, and the warmth of his hand as he squeezed mine, before he closed his eyes and slightly tipped his head downwards.

I glanced at Alex, caught the small twitch of an encouraging smile at the undamaged right corner of his mouth, before he, too, closed his eyes.

So... I did the same.

It was different than when Max and I connected. From having access to Max's memories, I knew that it was different for him as well. He had never been in a healing connection with more than one other person before.

There was a strong pull in the center of my stomach, a sucking feeling. It wasn't painful, but admittedly uncomfortable. It pulled upwards, almost as if it wanted me to get to the tips of my toes, like a string attached to my bellybutton. But I held my feet firmly planted on the ground, tightening my grip on Max's hand and sliding my other hand down Alex's arm to interlace my fingers with his.

The pull inside intensified exponentially, pushing heat out into the outer corners of my body. Out to my fingers, down my legs and to my toes. My ears heated, my cheeks blossomed, the small hairs at the back of my neck and along my arms stood at attention.

Next I was being thrown haphazardly through the air. Like a rag doll.

At least, that was the sensation that shook me even when I knew that I was still standing and my hands were still anchored to the men flanking me.

It took my breath away. It had my heart take off into a rapid rhythm. There was a floating feeling just before I crashed back into my body. Before a bright light shone in my mind.

I automatically squeezed my already closed eyes tighter, as if the light was coming from the outside and I needed to squint. In two short seconds, the light had disappeared.

Then there was Alex. His most recent memories, the thoughts that were running through his head right at that moment, his emotions, his genuine personality. It was all there. Swirling and wrapping around me. Filling me with wonderment. Filling me with love and warmth.

But also pain.

So much pain.

 _Familiar_ pain.

The pain from nerve endings being shocked and fried with heat. The pain was spreading along the left side of my body, burning through my shoulder, blistering over the top of my arm, aching along the left side of my neck, pulsating in the corner of my mouth. A heaviness was pulling on my left eye, my scalp felt both exposed and too warm.

The pain was horrible. Made it hard for me to breathe. Weakened my knees. Made me feel faint and nauseous.

 _Don't focus on the pain_. Max. In my mind. _It will block you_.

 _Do it like you did with Max._ Alex this time. It was odd to hear him in my head. I was so used to hearing Max and Max only. _Focus on the good stuff._

 _Alex is right,_ Max continued and I could feel the strain in his body. The strain it took to push the pain away. Even if he was telling me to ignore the pain, it was a monumental effort for himself to fully get past it.

 _I'll take care of the healing,_ Max added and - in the real world - squeezed my hand gently.

I reciprocated by tightening his squeeze, trying to get myself to push my fear away. Everything was big and overwhelming. But I had already done this once. And I had been alone then. Now I had Max with me, who knew how to do this. So I shouldn't be afraid.

This should be a piece of cake.

I almost laughed to myself.

Right.

My restrained sarcastic laughter at the surrealism of this situation was halted by the visual image of Alex's body.

Max was taking me up close to Alex's injuries. I was looking in detail at burnt tissue, soft curves of shoulders, sharp ends to collarbones, tight tendons of the neck. I was tracing damaged hair follicles, observing blood stains, seeing cracked vessels in the white of eyes.

All of the biology lessons I had ever witnessed seemed ridiculous compared to this.

Max was bringing me into the details of vessels, of tissue and even cells. He was rerouting fluids from unharmed tissue to dehydrated and heat damaged shrunken cells. He was knitting skin together, soothing inflammation, removing blisters. He repaired melted facial nerves, normalized injured hair follicles and urged them to start regrowing hair.

And second by second I could feel the pain lessen and I knew that it was growing less pronounced in Alex as well, which made me feel relieved.

I don't know how much difference I was making. Max was, as he had said, doing all the work. The vacuuming sensation at the start had disappeared, which was what had told me that he had been pulling energy from me. But maybe he felt like he could handle it without my energy.

 _No, I'm using it_ , Max told me. _**We**_ _are healing him._

I realized then that I was hearing directed thoughts from Max again. Just like I had done with Alex. Just like I had done before. But maybe that was because energy was being given to Alex at the moment, in a way weakening what was being fed into my connection with Max, reverting us back to the state of our connection before I had healed him.

Just as I finished my musings, the pain left my body. On instinct, I opened my eyes and was caught in Max's warm gaze. I took a deep breath and looked to my left, at Alex.

His mouth - his perfectly _healthy_ mouth - curved upwards as our eyes met and gave me a full grin. A grin à la Alex Whitman.

"I knew that you were something of a brainiac, Parker," Alex said lightly, "But I never realized the amount of thinking you do."

I frowned, shifting my gaze back to Max in confusion.

He was grinning now too, matching Alex's amusement.

Before Max could say anything, Alex chimed in, "My hat off to you, Evans. That's a lot of thoughts to have in your head."

I narrowed my eyes in disapproval as I looked back at Alex, catching on to what he was referring to. That I was thinking too much. That I was overwhelming Max with my thinking.

"I love your thoughts," Max said softly and closed the distance between our bodies.

I let go of Alex's arm, realizing that Max had already done so when he put both his arms around my waist and hugged me close.

He was warm again. His body heat seeping into me when I pressed my cheek against his chest (his bare chest, his sweater having been torn in the attack, now hanging off his shoulders like an open vest).

His lips brushed against the top of my hair while I temporarily allowed myself to relax against him. When I let my body relax, I was surprised to feel no pain. I had assumed it to be Alex's pain that had been removed previously, but it had also been mine. My feet felt light and like before. No heaviness or pain.

The connection already gave me the answer, through Max. Our bonding with Alex to heal him had healed me as well. And had probably also healed any residual injury that Max might have had.

"Alright," Dresden said behind me. "We need to get moving." I reluctantly pulled back from Max and looked at Dresden at the same time as he added, "The others are waiting."


	95. NINETY-FIVE

**NINETY-FIVE**

I was the first one she saw when she woke up. It had been arranged that way. It was the choice of the lesser evil. Not even I was very high on her 'People I trust'-list right now.

Michael had carried her into the room and put her on the thin mattress with flowery print which gave an abandoned impression on the floor. Max had kissed my forehead and brushed my cheek with the back of his knuckles as he had held my eyes for a long second before leaving the room.

Now it was only Maria and I.

Now it was only her green eyes looking into mine. First blinking with drowsiness and confusion before the blinking increased in both number and speed, the increasing discomfort of her movements further accentuated by the hasty flicking of her gaze from side to side.

Then the blinking stopped, her eyes widening as terror seeped into her dilating pupils, her memories rushing back to her.

Her mouth slowly opened with the intention of making sounds as her eyes zoned in on mine. Her mouth was widening along with her eyes, and it was the expectations that her scream would very soon cripple my eardrums, which had me speak quickly to interrupt her intentions, "Don't be afraid."

I didn't dare touch her. I didn't want to make her feel trapped. But it took a tremendous effort to keep my hands clasped in my lap while she laid frozen like a threatened animal, her mouth clamping closed.

She stared at me for the longest of seconds, her gaze both challenging and frightened, her blond thick hair unruly and wild around her head, before she lifted her upper body off the mattress, scooted back off the mattress in a seated shuffling motion, moving her bottom against the dirty wooden floor rapidly until her back slammed up against a wall.

Putting about 15 feet between us.

Maybe I should have let her scream and let her get it out of her system.

Instead we sat watching each other, neither of us knowing what to do. Like strangers. Not like two people who had braided each other's hair and eaten ice cream from the same bowl.

I wondered what she was saw when she looked at me. I wondered if she was seeing a traitor or a victim. I wondered how much she remembered from Max's rapid summary of what was going on, before Michael had knocked her out (again).

"Where am I?" she croaked, her question so sharp in the silent empty room that I startled.

I watched her purposefully swallow, as if her speaking had made it known to her that her throat was in desperate need of water.

I looked towards one of the long ends of the room, where Max had placed a glass of water just to the side of the closed door, in case Maria would like something to drink.

I found that Maria had followed the trail of my gaze as I looked back at her. It was an effort to attempt normalcy as I discreetly cleared my throat, my own throat longing for that glass of water, and asked, "Do you want some water?"

With a stubborn expression, she pressed her lips together, and I knew her well enough to read the internal battle. She didn't want to ask anything of me - she was too proud - but the longing in her eyes as they flittered to the glass exposed her desperate thirst.

I decided to let her out of her misery, unfolded my legs and got to my feet. Her eyes were burning on my neck as I walked up to the glass. But when I wrapped my fingers around the cool solid surface of the drink and turned around, she pointedly turned her head away.

She would rather look at a concrete wall than at me.

I approached her slowly, making the decision to stop a couple of feet from her and put the glass on the floor, before walking backwards towards the mattress, my backward retreat enabling me to keep my eyes on my former best friend.

She was looking over at the glass slowly, her face tipped forward to hide the majority of her facial expressions. But I could still see the suspicion in her eyes. And the vulnerability.

"It's just water," I told her, my heart aching.

Did she really think that I would put something in her drink that might hurt her?

She narrowed her eyes in deep mistrust as she looked up at me through the veil of her long dark eyelashes. Even with the coldness she was emitting, with the dark circles under her eyes, the dirtied clothes and the wild hair, she was beautiful. Amy - her mother - had had a brief encounter with an Venezuelan man 16 years ago. Two months later, she had realized she was pregnant with Maria. The girl that was going to grow into this long legged blonde woman with green eyes and dark long eyelashes. With the temperament of a pit bull and an unparalleled capacity to love.

It was a humbling experience to be a friend of Maria's. It was a frightening experience to be her enemy. Something I never personally had to experience until right now.

Maria had the power to pull you in. Most of the students at Roswell High probably thought she was an airhead. A bit too goofy. A bit new-agey. A bit too much. But they never got to see the real Maria.

The real Maria, the one behind all the layers of fascinating oddity, was amazing.

I missed the real Maria. I really really really did.

The pressure in my chest grew heavier as I watched her reach for the water, grasp the glass and bring it to her lips. She wouldn't let me go with her eyes for a second, barely blinking as she looked at me over the rim while she gulped the water down.

In that time, I said nothing. Partly, I had no idea what to say. Mostly, the look in her eyes held me back.

The glass made a sharp determined sound against the concrete floor as she put it down.

The dilation of her pupils made her eyes look black as she repeated, "Where am I?"

"Underground," I replied.

She was controlled. Calm. "Under what? Roswell?"

I held her gaze, adopting her calmness. Answered her controlled question with an equally controlled reply. Even though I didn't exactly have many answers to give. "I don't know. We only arrived twenty minutes ago."

Her face revealed nothing. "How did I get here? Was I carried? Or was I awake and you have somehow messed with my brain to make me forget?"

"You were unconscious," I answered, feeling guilty even though I'd had nothing to do with putting her in that state.

"Who knocked me out?" Before I could answer, her eyes narrowed, her control breaking as she suggested with dark irritation, "Michael?"

I nodded, watching her closely.

She dropped her eyes and grumbled under her breath, "Of course."

Slowly looking back up at me, her stoney expression was back and her question cut through me painfully, "How could you let him do that to me?"

I swallowed back the tears at the unfairness of what she was accusing me of. "I didn't know he would do that. If I had, I wouldn't have let him. But…" I hesitated, fearing that she might explode when I said what I needed to say, "But in retrospect, I think it was the best thing to do."

Anger reddened her cheeks, but before she could protest I hurriedly explained, "It kept you safe."

Shaking my head slowly, my stoic pretense wavering, I was speaking more to myself than her as I mumbled, "I've seen many things in those underground tunnels that I would give a lot to have unseen."

Her silence made me look up, to find the coldness of her mask breaking. There was a hint of the Maria I knew when she whispered warily, "What happened?"

Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I hesitated to tell her. Would it make it worse or better if she knew? Would it make her hate the situation more or would it make her accept my (and her) place in this?

"We had been moving through these dark murky tunnels for like forever. I didn't have time to put shoes on before we left, so my feet were all bloody and it was extremely painful to walk let alone run."

I paused to review how she was handling it, carefully scanning her facial expressions. But the lines of her face were softer now and she seemed to be really listening.

Encouraged by this, I cleared my throat and continued, "We had just met up with one of the main people of the rebellion - you'll meet him later - and were about to go through this small connecting tunnel to another tunnel, when we were attacked."

"Attacked?" she whispered, looking nauseous.

I nodded slowly, considering stopping. But she looked like a child listening to a ghost story. Like she didn't want to hear any more because she was afraid that she would be frightened, but at the same time needing to know how it would end.

"I was already inside the small tunnel - you had to crawl through it, it was that small - when Max was separated from me. He was just behind me when I heard the screams and the…fighting." How else would I explain the sounds energy blasts made? The horrific sounds of aliens fighting using their (gruesome) powers?

"Is he okay?" Maria asked and my heart broke again.

Because there she was. I could see her more clearly now. I could see the compassionate friend I had known for 90% of my life. Who probably didn't consciously realize that she was currently concerned about the life of an alien. The life of an alien that she had just disapproved strongly of before she was knocked out by (yet another alien) Michael.

Right now she was concerned about a fellow classmate. The infamous Max Evans of Roswell High. The boy who had fascinated the majority of a school - her included - and had let me believe that he was a vampire.

My voice shook a bit when I answered, the memory of Max's injuries having yet to fade, "He is now."

"But he was badly hurt?"

"He…" I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. "He had a hole in his stomach. He almost died."

"Oh my G…" Maria took a deep breath, looking down at the emptied glass of water, her eyes unseeing. "But how did he…? How is he…? How do you survive that?"

"I…" I paused, wondering how to answer it with anything but the truth.

The reply 'I healed him' was on the tip of my tongue when my control abruptly shattered. Maybe it was because she was finally listening and letting me explain, or maybe it was because she was showing concern. Or maybe it was just everything catching up to me in the silent calm space of that minimally furnished room.

Whatever it was, it came so suddenly that I didn't know I was going to bend over in loud wrecking hollow sobs until I did. The emotions were so overwhelming that I didn't have a chance to see how Maria reacted before I pressed my hands against my wet eyes, in attempt to silence the broken sobs with my palms.

I couldn't stop. Even when I was lost in the memories from what had happened in the past 24 hours and pain was laced with relief, grief was intermingled with love, fear was tainted with protection, I was aware of how my uncontrollable crying impacted brutally with the naked concrete walls, magnifying the sounds, hollowing them out before sending them back to me.

There, a couple of feet from that thin, abandoned mattress, with my legs crossed, my back curved forward as I folded in on myself, I felt more alone than ever before. Even with Max's comfortable presence in my soul, with his concern for my collapse moving through me strongly, I was aware of Maria's silent presence in this room. And the fact that she wasn't doing anything. The fact that I had managed to alienate her to a degree that would make her sit idly by as I cried the broken pieces of my heart out through the thick warm salty tears landing on my thighs had the power to destroy me.

It made me cry harder. The suspicion that she might not even take my tears as honest, but possibly a charade to win her sympathies, burned through my being, creating loud desolated sounds to be ripped out of my chest and brought past my lips to echo in the room.

It had been so long since I had been able to seek comfort in Maria's arms. Not since the death of my mother. And even then, I couldn't tell her the whole truth. For weeks, I'd been forced to push her away; to protect her and keep Max's secret safe. For weeks, I hadn't been able to ask for her comfort, for her listening ear.

Ironic how when I finally did, Maria wasn't ready to comfort.

I don't know what finally changed her mind. What had her sit down next to me, making me jump in surprise as her arms wrapping around my upper body alerted me to her closeness.

The strength of her long thin arms, circling me so easily, as if nothing ever had come between us, pierced straight into my aching heart and fueled my crying even more. But the sobs that had just been violent and harsh now turned softer, and the sound of my sniffling was joined by Maria's quiet sobs as she tightened her arms around me further and scooted her body closer.

My body absorbed her tremors and her crying and it wouldn't surprise me if she did the same with mine. Just like two friends did in comfort. Took on the other person's pain. Made it their own. To ease their burden. To share the weight.

Maria's tight hold on me almost restricted my own ability to return her embrace, my upper arms restrained against the sides of my upper body, making it only possible for me to use my hands to grab onto the soft edges of her shirt and fist the material desperately in my hands.

I'm not sure how long we sat like that or how many tears were shed. But my fingers were aching from the desperate clutching of her shirt in my fists, a headache was creeping along my hairline from the rough crying and my body felt completely worn out.

But I didn't think about that. All I could feel was tentative relief. A small hope that things might be okay. That I had managed to get a hold of Maria again.

Which meant that I was deathly frightened when Maria eventually loosened her grip on me and started to pull back. I was deathly afraid of what I would see on her face.

Would she be reverting back to the stranger she had just been or would she be the best friend that I had missed?

Her eyes were glistening with redness, her face appeared drawn and tired. But there was a softness to her features, which gave me hope of her forgiveness.

My taut body sagged with relief and a couple of silent slow tears escaped the corners of my eyes and slowly slid down my cheeks.

Her gaze was firmly on my face as she whispered with a voice wet from her crying, "I'm not gonna pretend that I understand at all what is going on and what's happened to you." She shook her head slowly, as if in disbelief. "I don't even know how to feel about all of this, because I _don't understand it._ "

Her long fingers, cool to the touch, encircled my hand. "I want to be angry with you for not including me in this from the start. I want to hate you for lying to me. I want to feel betrayed and hurt because you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth." She frowned. "Because that would make more sense than what I'm actually feeling."

I tried to swallow past the dry lump in my throat. "What are you actually feeling?"

She blinked, looking down at the hand she had joined with mine, before slowly looking up at me, the green of her eyes piercing through my heart with honesty. "That I want my friend back. That I want to be happy that you are okay. That I want to hear everything that's happened to you and… and…" she paused, her voice having thickened with emotion, and a tear hanging sadly from her bottom eyelashes, "I want to hear everything about you and Max."

A shudder of something powerful rocked me and I pressed my eyes closed against the onslaught of those emotions.

She squeezed my hand, but in my attempt to keep my tears in I couldn't get myself to open my eyes at her gentle prompt.

"Because even though it doesn't look like it, I noticed straight away that you two have something…big. I knew there was something between you and Max already before you disappeared on me. But you were… You didn't want to tell me."

She couldn't hide the hurt that crept into her voice at that last statement. She _was_ hurt. She _was_ feeling betrayed.

But she was willing to push it to the side in an effort to understand what I was going through. To grasp what had happened.

I tried to swallow again, but it didn't help in strengthening my voice. "I don't know what to say…"

She looked at me silently for a long moment, before she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into another hug. This time I was able to return her squeeze. This time I was able to hold her tight.

"I love you," she whispered into my ear, making my heart fold in on itself, and my hold on her tighten. "I'll always love you." A sob escaped her before she added, "You're like my sister, Lizzie. Nothing can ever come between us."

I wanted to thank her. I wanted to shower her in gratitude for accepting me. But all I could manage was, "I love you too."

The hug was long and warm. But eventually she pulled back again, wiped her eyes with the pads of her fingers and licked her lips while the hardness of determination inched into the lines of her face. "I need to know something."

I nodded. "Anything."

There was a beat before she firmly asked, "What happens now?"

I searched out Max in my head. Max, who had been ever-present but had managed to let me handle this on my own. Who had been itching to intervene, to protect me from any hurt - even from Maria - but who had managed to restrain himself and had trusted in my strength.

Nevertheless, even without the information in Max's mind, I knew what the future held. I knew the answer to Maria's question.

Darkly, I replied, "We're going to war." 

* * *

**A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay in this update. I'm working too much and the weather is too nice. So there's not that much time left to write. But I promise you that the updates will keep coming, but probably not as frequently as before.**

 **Thank you so much for reading, for leaving feedback, for supporting me :-)**


	96. NINETY-SIX

**NINETY-SIX**

"Will you be okay?" I asked, squeezing the back of her hand as she rested it on the table surface.

She looked up at me, green eyes still clouded with worry and fear. But my father was seated on her other side and he answered in her place, "She'll be fine."

"I just need to go to the bathroom," I hurried to add, feeling the pressing need to apologize. Even when nature was calling.

It felt as if I had been part of putting her in this situation, which made her my responsibility. Plus, I was her best friend. The only one she had decided to trust in this new crazy situation.

Well, she was warming up to my father as well. She always had a soft spot for him, and after hearing about his involuntary involvement in this whole mess, I think she viewed him as an ally. Because he too didn't have anything directly to do with this world. They had both been thrown into this mess because of who they knew. Because of who they loved.

"We'll be fine, honey," my father assured me.

Maria was looking at him now, hesitation on her face, her frame stiff. But after a second or two she turned to me and nodded, her eyes too wide to appear relaxed. "Of course. Go pee."

I managed to muster up a small smile. Her attempt to do the same was failing miserably and I felt myself wishing that she would stop trying because that grimace only screamed fear at me.

"Okay," I said, standing up, the movement simultaneously pushing the chair back.

We had moved to another - smaller - room, with some simple untreated wooden chairs and a wooden table. Maria had objected against remaining in the room where she had woken up. The room where I had given her a mind-spinning amount of details about what had happened since that Halloween Party months ago.

Instead she had reunited with my father in this much smaller room, giving Isabel a suspicious look and narrowed her eyes in a unmistakably angry warning at Michael.

Alex, Max, Dresden and Mr. Evans had been absent from the room, but my connection to Max assured me that their absence didn't translate into danger.

I felt Maria's eyes burn into my neck as I walked towards the door, hoping that this meager housing underground had some acceptable facilities. Like running water. I hadn't actually received a tour of the area upon arrival. Maria was not the only uninformed one here.

After Max had been healed, and after Max and I had healed Alex, we had run the remaining distance to arrive at a well-hidden tunnel which had led us up to a ironclad door.

Walking through that door was like stepping from one world and into another. From the moist soil tunnels with almost no lightning, to concrete flooring, walls and ceiling lined with bright light armatures. There might not be any decorative details that made it feel homey (on the contrary, it felt as cold, hard and impersonal as a bunker), but the roughness of the place actually made it feel safe.

Honestly, it felt like a bunker (and maybe it actually was) in that it wouldn't surprise me if the place actually could survive a nuclear bomb.

Dresden had guided us down a long corridor. Max's fingers held tightly onto my hand as we had walked side by side in Dresden's footsteps. Alex was walking closely behind us, his mere presence having comforted me. Maybe he had been using his powers at that point, to calm us all down, but I honestly hadn't taken offense if he had. Ever since seeing into his mind, I was viewing him differently. I was no longer inclined to see his powers as an invasion of my privacy and free will.

Bringing up the tail had been Michael, stubbornly carrying the unconscious Maria. It had seemed as if the general consensus in the group was to let Michael be the only one to carry Maria, especially after he so clearly had demonstrated that Maria was under _his_ protection earlier.

Dresden had pointed us to a room and informed Michael to put Maria on the mattress in there. Naturally, I had followed Michael to not let Maria out of my sight, but Dresden had stopped Max and I before we crossed the threshold to that impersonal and sparsely decorated room.

Dresden had hatched an idea on how to wake Maria from her artificial slumber. Max (as well as the other aliens) had the ability to bring her out of the unconscious state Michael had placed her in, but Dresden thought it to be unwise for Max - or any alien - to be the first person Maria saw when she woke up. And it would be disastrous if _Michael_ were to be the first one. It needed to be someone Maria knew. Someone she _trusted_.

Me.

It had to be me.

That's how I had ended up in that room with only Maria and a thin mattress with washed out flowery pattern, looking into her face as her eyes had opened and widened into that eerie expression of fear.

Using the connection, my hand against Maria's temple had been the physical link by which Max had woken Maria up. In the end, it had been Max who had done it, but I had felt the power flow through me, felt the click in my mind as a block was removed in Maria's and felt alertness open her mind. Max had gently instructed me to remove my hand from Maria's head and to sit back. It hadn't been long until Maria's eyes had started blinking.

I could tell by Dresden's expression afterwards, as I had met his sweeping gaze from his position down the corridor when I exited the room with (the now conscious) Maria, that he had been surprised himself that Maria had been awake. Maybe he hadn't quite believed it would work. Not fully.

Maybe it had been a suggested experiment on his part. A way to test the limits of the connection.

Either way, he hadn't been able to hide the surprise sliding down his facial features as he had seen Maria walking around.

There was a hint of that expression on his face even now, as I entered the corridor again - on the hunt for a bathroom - right as Dresden, Alex, Mr. Evans and Max exited another room.

Dresden's presence quickly blurred into nothing, though, when I laid eyes on Max. His shoulders were slumped forward. His head was tipped in a defeated manner with his eyes on the floor. I had felt the degradation of his general condition through the connection, but had managed to push it to the side while focusing on Maria.

But that was no longer a possibility. Not when faced with the harsh reality of the invisible weight someone had draped across my boyfriend's back.

Bladder forgotten, my most primal instinct was no longer to pee, but to get to Max. The decision barely had time to register in my mind before Max looked up in my direction. Amber eyes meeting chocolate. Weary eyes meeting anxious. A primal thrill rushed through my body, making me momentarily lose my breath.

There was no flicker of surprise in his steady gaze. He always seemed to know where I was. Even before our connection had been firmly established in our bodies and minds he'd had a firm awareness of my whereabouts.

From the connection I also knew that the reason why they had entered the corridor at the same moment I had was because of Max. He had interrupted their meeting because he had felt me getting closer.

He needed me.

We hadn't had a second alone since Michael had barged through the door at the hostel with an angry, uncooperative Maria. It seemed impossible to think that it had only been this morning. Barely twelve hours ago.

So much had happened since then.

We hadn't even had a chance to absorb that Max had almost died. That I had brought him back. That something vital had happened to our bond.

My surroundings blurred into insignificance as he turned purposeful steps in my direction. I was vaguely aware of someone calling Max's name, in that indignant resigned way that is typical when the caller knows he's not gonna get a response, but either Max didn't hear or he completely ignored it because his steps didn't falter.

His warm front collided with mine, warm strong arms wrapped tightly around my upper body, his lips very hot and present against my skin as he buried his face in the trembling curve of my neck. The pressure of his arms, bringing me as close as physically possible, never loosened as his hands dove into my hair, his fingers rubbing against my scalp as he expanded the hug to my whole body.

My body was sighing in relief while tightening in anticipation and longing, with my flustered cheek flattened against his collarbone and my face instinctively angling upwards to press my lips against the underside of his jaw.

There was something vital about touching his skin. I hadn't realized how much I had been starving for that contact, however meager, until I regained it.

Even within the tightness of his embrace, I had no trouble breathing. On the contrary, my lungs felt lighter than ever before and oxygen was easily inhaled to bring life to every cell.

He was fisting my hair in his hands, pressing his underarms against the blades of my shoulders, breathing warm breaths against my neck. His hold was as desperate and hungry as mine was with my slightly too long nails digging into his back with the firm pressure of the pads of my fingers and the pull on his body to get even closer.

Our clinging was mutual, our desperation hollow and insatiable, and our longing for that contact between us that was just ours threatened to override our sanity and rationality.

The pace of his breaths was increasing. Matching mine. And as the world around us was melting away, he moved us through a doorway almost right behind me. His lips formed kisses along my neckline, moving up my cheek and connecting with my lips as the darkness of the room enveloped us, the sounds of our frantic kissing echoing off the walls.

The meager source of light coming from the doorway was removed as Max kicked the door closed behind him, physically cutting us off from the outside world.

"I love you," he whispered against my lips, slightly letting go of his hold and using his hands to move up around the upper curve of my shoulders, brushing up my neck and caressing up my warm cheeks.

"I love you," I whimpered, my words being swallowed by his kisses, by the tip of his tongue against my lips, his tongue moving against mine.

My whole body was tingling, my mind felt awake in a way that shouldn't be possible, and my heart felt like it was expanding too much to fit inside my ribcage.

His clothes were annoying me. They were getting in the way. I needed to feel his skin. I was desperate to feel his skin. I moved my hands up underneath his sweater, reveling in the warmth of his skin, in the solidity of his muscles and the softness of the rise of his chest.

His hands were doing the same. Bundling up the bottom hem of my sweater around his wrists as he heatedly caressed his hands up my back, around the sides of my abdomen, up my front and cupping my breasts.

A sharp gasp left my being and we both stilled. As if we both realized what we had been missing out on. What we had been forced to push aside in the midst of chaos and war.

But that moment of suspension was a short one. The short pause before Max pulled my shirt over my head and unclasped my bra. All in one movement, it seemed.

The action shot fire straight to my core and my legs trembled when my knees threatened to give out.

Before they did, Max had pulled his own sweater over his head and crushed our naked upper bodies together, preventing me from falling.

But then his lips were moving down my chin, over my collarbone and kissing down the swell of my breast, and as his lips closed around my nipple, my legs lost their strength and bent in a swirl of emotion.

His arm quickly wrapped around my back, holding me up, as his tongue continued to move lightly over my nipple.

I whimpered in pleasure and tried to stabilize myself by tightening my fingers around fistfuls of his soft thick hair.

"I love you so much," he said softly, his dark voice vibrating against my sensitive skin, making me clench my thighs together.

The desperate need to kiss him threatened to drown me, and I repositioned my hands to press against the firm lines of his well-chiseled jaw and redirect him from my breast to my mouth.

For a second, his dark eyes met mine, making pure passion heat every millimeter of my body, before he lustfully captured my (already) swollen lips. The feeling of his warm chest against mine was doing inexplicable things to my body. My lust for him was making me tremble.

The fact that I could also feel _his_ thirst for me had the feelings bordering on painful.

Every stroke of his lips against mine, every tingled spreading through me as the tip of his tongue brushed mine, every rhythmic intermittent push of his pelvis against mine, threatened to undo me in climax. I had missed his intimate touch so much that not much was needed for me to tumble over that edge of pleasure.

"I need you," he mumbled frustratedly against my lips. "But I don't want to do it here."

He found it degrading. The room was not nice enough. He didn't want me to feel like I wasn't special. He didn't want it to seem as if he only needed comfort and didn't really care about me.

"I don't care," I whispered back heatedly, the words falling rapidly over my tender lips. I pressed my fingers down the inside of his jeans, feeling the hard bones of the front of his hips, as my body started to ache for him. With a pounding and very real need. "I don't care where we are. I just need you. Close."

He pulled his head back, separating our mouths and looked at me in the darkness. Even in the poor light, his eyes looked clouded. Clouded with desire. The look was dangerously dark, sending a thrill to the center of my body.

Just as my body was tensing with inexplicable amounts of need, there was a knock at the door.

"Max? Elizabeth?"

Max's eyes were still on my face as I whipped my head towards the door in response to the male voice, my body instantly tensing for a whole other reason.

I jumped when Max pressed a light kiss to the corner of my mouth, and looked back at him with my heart beating forcibly in my chest.

"Just ignore it," Max whispered in the darkness.

I looked back at the door, the need to do as Max had requested threatening to pull me apart. How desperately I wanted to forget about the outside world and just drown in Max.

But before I could come up with a reply, there was a second knock, and my body started to cool off. Along with the knowledge that we could not grasp that loneliness we so desperately needed, the heavy weariness that had escaped me all day landed on top of me with a heavy drop. It had been a long day. A ridiculously long day. And I needed to immerse myself in positive energy more than ever. Alone. With Max.

Max's eyes were burning into my face as he was following my train of thoughts. Following the disappointment, the fatigue, the resignation.

So when he pulled me into a tight hug I felt like crying with the heaviness of what we had gone through in the past 24 hours. I wanted to cry because I knew that it was not over yet.

"We can make them go away," he whispered into my hair when the restrained sobs tightened my throat and his arms became even more solid around my naked upper body.

"We're not done, Max," Dresden continued through the door. "This is important. We need to finish the discussion."

"I need you," I whispered brokenly into his bare shoulder, feeling like I would shatter if I didn't get to be alone with him.

But I knew that he had to go. I was witnessing snippets of their meeting through his mind and I knew that it was important that he continued with that meeting. I could see maps of Dulce Base. I could see lists of names, hear accounts of betrayal and tidbits of information about rebellious acts.

What scared me the most - and made me reluctantly take a step back from his warm body - was the information about the inhabitants of Roswell. The _human_ inhabitants. About how they were being used. How their minds were being wiped. How they were manipulated and mindraped to suit the needs of the aliens. How they were becoming collateral damage in an alien conflict.

I avoided eye contact with Max while I bent down to search out our clothes strewn uncaringly on the floor, my mind now being filled with my own trepidations. I saw the faces of all the humans that were still left out there, without any protection. I saw the nice lady in the supermarket. My 3rd grade teacher. Classmates. Friends of my parents.

I saw Amy DeLuca, Maria's mom. What was happening out there right now? Were some people in greater danger only because they had at some point interacted with me, however short the interaction? Would someone be in danger just because they had once been served a Man in Black Burger by me at my parents' restaurant?

Max's hands felt large and almost scalding in temperature against my upper arms when I straightened up again. Handing him his sweater in the darkness, I looked up into his eyes and translated silently what he needed to do, _They have to be punished for what they are doing. We can't let them win. We can't let them destroy us._

He searched my face and was already insisting that the plan to annihilate the opposition could wait ten minutes. We just needed ten minutes alone. Only _ten minutes._

I slowly shook my head while putting my arms through the shoulders straps of the light pink bra and said quietly, against the background of another rap of knuckles against the door, "No. We need to get through this. We need to face the music. I can't continue to live like this for much longer. It will destroy me."

He nodded, his gaze softening. He lifted his hand and tenderly cradled my cheek. "Of course. But we're staying together tonight. I don't care where. If it's directly on the concrete floor or squeezed inside a closet space. We're staying together."

A small smile grazed my trembling lips and the shudder of a breath left me. "Yeah. Yes, we are."

Dresden called again, "Max?"

Max gave me a long look that spoke of too many emotions to count, before he pulled the sweater over his head and yelled at the door, "Coming!"

But before he reached for the door, he waited for me to get fully dressed then pulled me in for a soft and slow kiss. A kiss that told me everything I needed to know about the magnitude and details of his love for me.

His next words put a chill on the aftereffect of that kiss and signaled for anxiety to painfully squeeze its cold long fingers around my heart. "Tomorrow, we're going to practice using the connection. Because we're gonna need it if we are going to survive this."

His eyes flew over my face with scrutiny while I felt my heart rate pick up with impending adrenaline, but left with nothing to say to soothe my fear, he placed a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose and opened the door.

Dresden stood in the light, eyes quickly moving into the room and finding mine, before looking at Max towering up in front of him. Max's voice was bitter and resolute as he bit out, "Let's do this."

Dresden's eyes narrowed slightly before he gave me another fleeting look and acknowledged with politeness, "Elizabeth."

I swallowed and stated, "Dresden."

With that, Dresden disappeared from the doorway. Max turned his head to look at me over his shoulder. The light from the hallway created a silhouette around his broad shoulders and I swallowed again. The hard expression on his face made him look dangerous. Intimidating.

One minute ago I had been looking at a warm lover. Now I was seeing a warrior. A soldier.

"I'll find you later," Max promised, his voice dark and flat.

Mutely, I nodded.

There were no words when the world as I knew it was about to drastically change.


	97. NINETY-SEVEN

_Child of Music and Dreams - **Thank you!**_

* * *

 **NINETY-SEVEN**

"Who's that?"

Mom turned her head to follow the discreet aim of my pointed finger. I narrowed my eyes and tried to focus my eyesight. Why was the man so blurry?

Mom's eyes were burning with darkness as she looked back at me. "He's dangerous. Don't trust him."

"Isn't he fighting on our side?" I don't know why I said that, since I couldn't even really see the person, but I had a feeling he was with us. Another rebel.

The fire burnt brightly in her eyes even when the hard expression in the lines of her face softened with a modest curving to her mouth. She placed her palm against my cheek and the comforting and familiar warmth from her hand went straight into my heart.

"Not all can be trusted," she said slowly and tenderly. As if she was telling me how much she loved me rather than giving me a warning.

I looked into her large blue eyes, traced the redness of her hair, the fine short strands of hair that curled along her hairline. I took in the character of her nose, the blush in her cheeks. She looked well. Filled with life.

I nodded in the clasp of her palm, not daring to blink. I had this aching feeling in my chest that she would disappear if I did.

"Hi."

Reluctantly, I looked away from my mom towards that voice.

A girl I had never seen before was looking at me silently. She had a pretty face. A very young face. The blonde loose curls surrounding her fawn skin and the blueness of her eyes made her look even younger than she probably was. Almost doll-like.

She was short - my height - but that's where our physical similarities ended.

She had curves. Lots of them. They were sensually arranged along her body, in just the right spots, and something about her was telling me that she was very well aware of the characteristics of her body.

But even with long dark eyelashes framing those baby blue eyes - which should have reminded me of a child and reached into my heart for my need to care for her - a chill went through my soul. The chill was only further accentuated by the sudden loss of my mom's touch against my cheek.

I whipped my head away from the blonde to where my mom had just been.

She was gone.

"No," the word whispered brokenly across my lips while acute grief and loss exploded in my heart. "Mom?"

"She's dead."

The blonde's voice was cold. Impassive. It made the coldness in my body intensify, preventing me from taking proper breaths.

"She's been dead for weeks," she continued, her voice being darker than that of a general girl, but at the same time scratching against the insides of my ears. As if it was in dissonance. Whiny. "You can't have forgotten that already, have you?"

I was still staring at the spot where my mom had been just a moment ago, when the evil doll's voice came closer and I felt her breath against my ear. My whole body tensed. It had the same reaction as if a rattle snake had snuck up next to me. The reaction was primal. Instinctive. Necessary for survival.

Her voice was slow and almost seductive as she added, "Her weak human body couldn't handle the pressure from an alien mind, remember? She was useless. A weak, useless human."

Heat was building from the center of my body and goosebumps spread across my skin. My fists tightened and a suffocating anger spread up my throat, constricting it painfully.

But instead of screaming, instead of hitting her, instead of at least shoving her away, I could do nothing. I was immobilized.

Her lips brushed against the shell of my ear, causing the acidic byproduct of nausea to fight with the anger for a spot in my constricted throat, as she added, "A weak, useless human. Just like you."

"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice colder than I had ever heard it, translating every dark feeling I had right then.

"My brother was weak too," she continued slowly, her voice barely a whisper. "Too many emotions. Too..." I felt wetness in the shell of my ear and realized with a nauseating cringe that she had just licked me, "...uncontrolled."

Brother?

"Do I know you?"

"You will," she promised and I could hear the satisfied smile in her voice. She was loving this. She was taunting me, like a cat would a small mouse. Like the cat would pounce on the mouse one second and then sit back and see if it would move. If it did, there might be claws, there might be a nick of those sharp teeth.

Point being, once the cat got tired of the game, it would eat the mouse. No hesitation. No remorse.

"What's your name?" I demanded.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered and I regained the ability to move my body. I quickly turned my head to look at her, raising my arm as I did. Wanting to protect myself. Wanting to let her know that she couldn't talk to me like that. Whoever she might be.

But she was gone. As gone as my mother.

I jumped in fear as someone touched my hand. My free arm, still raised, flew through the air before I had a chance to discover who had touched me. My hand was caught by another hand just seconds before my eyes connected with a chestnut gaze.

"Tess," he said, slowly changing his grip around my hand so that his fingers enveloped my fingers warmly.

I shivered at the name. I had no idea why.

"Is this a dream?"

He nodded, looking uncomfortable and... worried. "Yes, but..." He frowned, looking down at my hands which he was holding in his. "But it was not a simple dream."

My heart was pounding so wildly in my chest that I was starting to feel dizzy.

Max looked up at me with a faraway look in his eyes. He was thinking about something. Trying to sort information out. All I could make out from his thought processes was that face - that blonde-haired head - over and over again. She was smiling. Running well-manicured fingers down Max's arm. Brushing her lipstick-covered lips against his skin.

Discomfort mixed with disgust moved through me and I ripped my hands out of Max's grip and took a quick step backwards. Putting distance between us.

I had never been jealous before. But I had a feeling that's what this was. The sense of betrayal made my heart ache and my stomach churn with nausea.

Unfortunately, placing physical distance between dream versions of Max and I - when he was obviously in my dream because of the connection - wouldn't stop the insight I had into his thoughts.

Maybe not just thoughts. Memories?

Judging by the guilty expression on Max's face, he couldn't block me from it either. I was hoping that the guilt was only because of that and not because of something else.

Prompted by my thoughts, Max's mind lit up with images of that girl's half-naked body.

I inhaled sharply, squeezed my eyes closed and pressed my hands to my head. "Get out. Get out _get out get out_."

With my screaming, it would have been impossible for me to hear him. But his voice was inside my head. His regretful and guilty pleading through the repetition of my name to calm me down was loud and clear inside my consciousness.

"GET OUT!"

I awoke with a start, propelling my upper body upwards into an impromptu seated position. I blinked in the bright light (we had been forced to sleep with the lights on, considering we were under the constant threat of being attacked) and tried to still my rapid breathing.

"What's wrong?"

Maria's voice next to me was frightened and muddled.

I flickered my eyes to her, fell into her sleepy widened eyes, and heard myself mumbling, "It's fine. I'm fine." Even though nothing was fine.

My dream had just been haunted - _hijacked_ \- by Max's ex. Or something. I had no idea how it was possible or what Max's history with that girl actually was, but right now I felt like throwing up. Right now I needed to get out of here.

All eyes were on me. We were all bunked up in the same room. Maria on my left. Max on my right. Alex next to Maria and Michael next to Max. Dresden was in charge of protecting my father, Mr. Evans was looking after his wife and Isabel.

They were all here. Staring.

Then his hand wrapped around my wrist.

"No," I screamed and tugged my hand violently out of his grip.

I didn't want to look behind me to see what kind of reaction my action had done to Max. I didn't even have to.

I could feel it in my whole body. I could feel his sadness, the guilt, the anguish, the regret, the shame, and - underneath it all - the brewing anger at needing to explain himself.

But I wouldn't let him. Not now.

I scrambled to my feet and almost tripped as the thin blanket got tangled around my feet.

"You are not allowed to leave this room," Dresden announced. His voice was level and authoritative. A don't-mess-with-the-rules-missy kind of tone.

For the fraction of a second, I considered bailing anyway. I considered getting out of this room, walk down the corridors, and just continue walking. Even if I would be endangering my life.

But reason quickly returned to me. That would be stupid. I shouldn't leave.

Instead I turned towards Dresden. He was seated with his back pressed up against the wall. His eyes were alert and awake. It was probably his turn to keep a watch on us while we slept. The shift schedule had been made up during the meeting earlier. It didn't involve any of us humans, though.

 _Weak, useless humans._

Her voice echoed in my mind and I grabbed a hold of Dresden's gaze. "Who's Tess?"

The mood changed in the room. From confusion and fear to... Something else. I frowned. It was the feeling of having tripped on a secret that everyone else was aware of.

Dresden's reaction further emphasized that I had touched on something well-known. There was not a flicker on his face. Not even a blink. Almost as if he had expected that question.

"Tess Carter," he answered and ice cold needles pierced their way down my spine.

Carter? As in Sean Carter? Sgt. Steven Carter?

My voice was barely there when I asked, "Who is she?"

"The daughter of Steven and Patricia Carter. The sister of Sean Carter."

"No," I frowned. "No. Sean didn't have a sister."

Or maybe she was older. Maybe she was a lot older and never went to school at the same time as I. But that wouldn't make sense. She seemed to be my age in the dream. Besides, "There were no records of her. I looked up the Carter family and they only had one child. Sean."

"She's not in any records," Dresden replied. "Neither am I. On paper, we don't exist."

When I turned my head to search out Max, I noticed that I was shaking. My instinct to search him out when I needed safety and comfort was so natural that I hadn't even realized I'd done it, until I locked eyes with him.

He was standing. Keeping his distance. There was distance and control in his body, giving me space, but his eyes were flooded with emotions. He was trying to block them from me, but with our heightened connection it was no longer possible. I still got them. They were just dimmed. Turned down.

"How do you know her?" I asked Max and tried desperately to ignore the images of her I had received through our shared dream.

Max took a deep breath, as if to steel himself, licked his lips and said slowly, "She means nothing-"

"She's Max's lifemate," Dresden interrupted and I swayed on the spot.

 _Lifemate._ What the hell did that mean?

But I knew what that meant. Just like I had been betrothed to Sean at a young age, Max had been promised to someone else. Probably when he was no more than a boy himself.

My mind was figuring it all out with such speed that it almost felt unnatural. Or maybe too natural. Max's everyday life with lies and deception was become second nature to me.

All of the sudden, it all seemed very clear. Max would have been promised to someone that could carry on the healing trait. An alien that would provide him with the 'appropriate' children.

Oh yes. That foreign feeling of jealousy was certainly rearing its ugly head. Once it had been invited to the party, it would try its hardest to drink all the liquor, trash the house and throw up on your parents' most expensive rug.

Max's face darkened, his mouth turning into a hard line, as he looked over at Dresden.

If looks could kill...

But Dresden didn't seem affected by the animosity of that glare. "I thought you would have told Liz by now. Or at least, that she would have seen it for herself in your mind."

"Tess has not exactly been on my mind," Max bit out through clenched teeth.

I swallowed back threatening tears. My throat was tightening from the dryness of my pharynx.

I couldn't compete with this. Once again, I couldn't compete with this. Just like when Sean was meant for me. Was _decided_ for me. Alien decisions seemed to be set in stone.

Now, Sean was dead. Which fortunately made it difficult for me to be with him.

But this Tess person might just be very much alive. Which, theoretically, meant that she might just walk through the door at any second and put a claim on Max.

"Was it _your_ dream?" I asked Max, my voice unrecognizable, wet with sadness and repressed hurt. "Did I end up in your dream?"

How else would I be dreaming about someone I had never met, who I didn't know?

Max returned his dark eyes to me and took a determined step towards my shaking frame. He stopped as soon as he saw me flinch.

His fists tightened alongside his body and I could feel the thin control he had over his emotions. He was so close to breaking. So close.

"It was your dream," he answered.

"But I don't know her-" I started to object, but Max interrupted.

"Tess did this to you."

When I thought I couldn't feel any worse, he brings alien powers into the mix.

"Tess has dreamwalking abilities," Dresden explained.

"Meaning?" I whispered shakily.

"She can access people's minds when they are sleeping," Dresden explained calmly. "If she's standing close enough to a person, preferably with physical contact, she can access people's minds even when they're awake."

"Like Sean." My lips were dry, my voice cracking with the effort of forming sounds to deliver words.

"Not exactly," Dresden corrected. "They both specialize in abilities that affect the mind, but Tess does not control minds the same way Sean did. She plants things into your head. Makes you see things that are not really there. To create misunderstandings and false impressions. To trick you. And the more vulnerable you are, the more easily she'll be able to manipulate you."

I narrowed my eyes slightly at him. I didn't appreciate the jab, if there was one, that I was more vulnerable. Maybe even more exposed now than before because of my relationship with Max.

I turned to Max, with black anger swelling up inside my chest, and accused, "You've been with her."

His face turned even darker, right before my eyes. "Not here."

I almost laughed at his ridiculous answer. "Of course not. You've never been here before. You-"

"I meant-", Max interrupted, "we should discuss this in private."

Oh God... This is bad. If he can't even talk about it in front of the others... Oh God.

"Don't," Max said quietly, the anger flowing out of his being, making him slump his shoulders.

My heart squeezed tighter, my stomach felt like it was on its way up my esophagus. I didn't like his reaction one bit. He was already asking for forgiveness.

What had he let that girl with the eerie voice and the cold eyes do to him? What had he agreed to? What could she do to our relationship? To _us_?

 _Why haven't you told me about her?_

He blinked at my telepathic question. _Because she's not important._

Anger swept through me. _She obviously is, considering that she just broke into my dream!_

He visibly winced, before he strode right up to me. His impressive broad-shouldered chest towered over me and his dark gaze stared into the center of my being.

Before I had a chance to react, he had grabbed me by the upper arm and started to guide me out of the room.

"Max, I don't think that's such a good idea-" Dresden started to protest.

Max bit out over his shoulder, "Haven't you done enough already?", while he continued to guide me - or more accurately _drag_ me - towards the door.

"Listen to him, Max," Mr. Evans warned in that tone of voice that always made me feel cold inside.

"Fuck you, Dad," Max mumbled under his breath, ripped the door opened and pulled me through.

I was too caught up in the discussions moving over my head to put up much of a resistance to Max's removal of me from the room.

But then the door slammed closed behind us and Max let go of my arm.

My breaths were shallow as I looked up at him in the glare from the artificial lights in the ceiling. He was standing close enough for me to feel the heat vibrate off his body, but not close enough for him to be touching me.

It felt weird. To want to push him away at the same time as I wanted him to hold me.

"Tess Carter is a manipulative bitch," Max announced next without preamble. Looking down at me, anger and sadness making his pupils dilate, he added, "And yes, she's my lifemate, the woman I'm supposed to wed. The woman who is supposed to bear my children."


	98. NINETY-EIGHT

_Child of Music and Dreams - Thank you for your comment :)_

* * *

 **NINETY-EIGHT**

I stared at him. I couldn't feel my legs anymore. Couldn't feel my arms. My heart must have stopped. My brain must have gone into hibernation.

I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Empty. I felt empty.

And I wanted this all to stop. I wanted the surprises to stop. I wanted the bombs of shock to stop exploding around me. I wanted to be happy again. Relaxed. Safe.

"She's the one I'm supposed to _love._ " Max was spitting the words out as if they had a disgusting flavor.

"No one has ever talked about her," I said slowly, my voice as detached as my body. "No one. No one has ever hinted to her existence. Not in all of that time I spent at the hands of Steven Carter."

I shook my head, frowning. "I don't understand. It would be an excellent way to taunt me, to upset me, when I was in captivity. To really emphasize that the two of us could never be together. Why wouldn't they use that information?"

Max sighed. "I would presume that Sarge didn't want too many to know about her. That's why she's been kept a secret."

"Why is she such a secret?" I asked, feeling increasingly unimportant. Compared to this amazing Tess, who everyone was so adapt at keeping a secret, I was nothing.

"Stop that right now," Max said forcibly.

"Why, Max?" The first tear escaped my eye and tumbled down my pale cheek. "Why is she so protected?"

"Because she's crazy," Max replied.

That was not reason enough, according to me. But before I could protest against his lame explanation, Max filled in, "I mean, _certifiable_. She's actually insane. Even by alien standards."

I was getting more and more confused. Why would they set Max up with a lunatic?

"Remember the Institute where I was being held?"

I nodded mutely.

"Tess was there too." He paused to close the distance between our bodies and gently wrap his long fingers around my shivering upper arm. "She just never left."

A crazy alien?

What in the world had gone wrong with the Carter family?

For a brief moment I found myself wondering what Sean's mother was like before I refocused on the subject. "What's wrong with her?"

Max brought his free hand up to my face, hesitated for a second while reading my face to see if I were to protest. When I didn't, he fluttered his fingers over my flushed cheek and bent his face down to mine, close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath against the line of my nose.

"She has absolutely no empathy."

I opened my mouth to protest and inform him that this seemed to be a common ailment amongst the Antarians - according to Max himself - but Max spread his fingers against my cheek to softly press his thumb against my lips, softly silencing my protest.

"The people who looked after her and tried to treat her at the Institute, believed her affliction to be a result of her special ability."

My mind searched for the new word Max had mentioned and with a wobbly questioning tone, I asked, "Dreamwalking?"

"Dreamwalking is just a small part of her special ability. It falls under her ability to make up things in her own head and project it into other people's minds and in that way affect what they are seeing. Apparently, she did it so much when she was a child that it broke her mind."

I shivered.

Even though I had gotten very bad vibes from the girl in my dream, and even though the description I was getting right now wasn't exactly making me less afraid of her, I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the girl. I remembered what it felt like to fight Sean in my head. How much it hurt my mind. The headaches and the throbbing. If Max hadn't bonded with me, _my_ mind might very well had become broken.

"She's confused, ruled by many small parts of her mind which are pulling her in different directions. The parts of her mind are not working together towards a common goal, like in normal individuals, but working on their own."

"Multiple personalities?"

"I guess that's the closest you can get to explain it, although she doesn't exactly exhibit multiple personalities. It's just different parts of the same person. She also has strong schizophrenic tendencies in that she doesn't have an anchor to reality."

"And healers can't cure her? You've told me before that you heal mental illnesses as well."

He rested his forehead against the top of my forehead and flushed the fronts of our bodies together. The action calmed me, making my eyes drift closed.

"I can alleviate it. Momentarily. But there's no cure. The problem is that they could never quite make her stop using her special ability. If she had stopped using it, she might have been able to heal." Max's voice became tight as he added, "But she's having too much fun tricking people. She won't stop."

"So that's why no one talks about her? They're _ashamed_ of her?"

"Not exactly the Sergeant's pride and joy," Max said grimly.

"Why pair her up with you? She doesn't sound like she would be a good candidate for someone's partner, especially not to start a family with, have children with. Why risk taking down one of their few healers? I mean, you might go insane from just being around a person like that for too long."

Max took a step back and I looked up to see the veil move over his eyes.

"Two reasons," he said, not meeting my gaze. "She has the genetics to carry on the healing trait."

"I figured as much," I mumbled bitterly.

Max looked at me briefly with a nod, before inhaling deeply and taking another step back from me while he pushed his hands through his hair. I remembered that I had cut his hair not many hours ago. It already seemed like another time.

"Every female alien born - pure and hybrid - are tested for the ability to carry on the healing trait. They are also tested for other genes, but that's beside the point. There are not many that have the gene compatible with a healer to produce offspring with healing abilities. First, there aren't many healers at all. But also, it's very rare for female aliens to carry the gene. Which is why there were so few healers on Antar. This is the main reason why my father searched for a mate amongst humans. Apparently, it's easier to find one in the human population."

"Right," I whispered and couldn't help but wonder if I had that gene.

Even though Max must have heard my musing, he didn't comment, rather returned to the matter at hand. "The other reason would be my ability to alleviate her madness through repeated healings. I would be able to control her. Keep the world safe from her. Maybe make her feel better."

"You would be sacrificing your life to care for her," I said slowly, tracing the tense lines of his face. "What kind of life would that give you?"

"Not a good one," Max said darkly.

I slowly shook my head, realizing now that Max and I shared this as well. We both wanted to get out of our arranged 'marriages'.

A sting of bad conscience struck me. I was reminded of all the times when I had had breakdowns about having to be forced into a bond with Sean, when all that time Max's situation had been the same. But he had never said a word. I guessed the reason for that being that Max had always known and maybe - in a way - he had accepted it.

Still, when I thought I couldn't possibly love the man standing in front of me any more than I already did, I find out that his concern has always only been about me. Not a thread of bitching and moaning about him having to bond with a psychopath in the close future.

"Does she visit your dreams?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"She did. When I was living at the Institute. She was not as crazy then, but messed up enough to give me nightmares."

I swallowed back my anger. "That's sick."

"She's a sick girl," Max said in a tone as hard as stone, but with a resignation of someone that knew that the problem couldn't be fixed.

"Is it really that important to produce healers that you would risk producing crazy healers?"

I realized that I was getting myself worked up. I just found the idea ludicrous. I guess it shouldn't surprise me at this point. Those aliens truly were messed up.

"If the only female alien with the gene happens to be psycho, isn't that reason enough to choose a human? Do they detest humans so much that they would rather jeopardize something as rare as the healer group by having a schizophrenic psychopath procreate?"

Max shrugged and tried to appear unaffected. But the subject was bothering him more than he wanted to admit. "I've never claimed to understand the workings of the Antarians in charge."

The air left me. My momentum of anger was halted by his deference. By old habit, I started worrying my bottom lip.

Something was troubling me. Well, excluding the quite obvious blaring details about this disturbed Tess girl.

Jealousy. I was bothered by my bout of jealousy earlier.

"Those images I saw in your head. Of her being..." I cringed at the memory, "half-naked and kissing you." My heart physically ached as I forcibly pushed out the words between my dry lips, "And doing other stuff."

"Some of it is true, others were images she projected into my head."

Odd how that answer didn't comfort me one bit.

"Huh," I harrumphed. I barely got the words out, "Which of it was true?"

He looked clearly uncomfortable as he shifted his weight slowly from one foot to the other. "I was 14. They locked us in a room for 20 hours to see if we would gain a natural liking to each other. Since Tess did not attend school, there was no way we could 'hang out' under any normal circumstances."

"Wait," I frowned and held up my hand to stop him. "Wait. You... They _locked you up in a room?_ "

Max shrugged. "Everything's allowed."

I wanted to roll my eyes at that piece of information, but frankly I was too upset by that notion to manage such a gesture.

"So were there sparks?" I hadn't meant for it to sound as bitter and sarcastic as it did, but that touch of jealousy had returned. This time my treacherous mind was playing up scenarios of what teenagers alone in the same room for 20 hours could be up to.

"Not of the kind you are referring to," Max said slowly, his face expressionless. "But she did attempt to blast me-" My eyes widened in horror and Max added, "Just for fun, of course."

"She's dangerous," I realized gravely.

Max nodded. "She might not be all there, but don't underestimate her. She's still cunning and manipulative. Although highly unpredictable. Think of her as Joker in Batman."

"Raving mad," I mumbled under my breath while I tried to process this information.

Max's voice was gentle and relatively tentative, "We did kiss."

I froze and held my breath while waiting for him to continue.

"It was nothing. Not even to a pubertal teenage boy who had barely touch a girl before that day did she do anything to my system. No sparks. No tingles. Not even a sensation. It was just wet and cold and-"

I quickly put my hands up, "Okay okay okay," to stop him from saying anything more.

Max wrapped his hands around my protesting hands and pressed them against his chest. Leaning forward, he brought our mouths within an inch of each other. "I wish it had never happened. At the time, I was relieved to have made it out of there alive."

I swallowed heavily. "Tell me. How did she end up in my dream? Has she gotten stronger? Can she access me through you somehow?"

Max slowly shook his head, his eyes going black with crippling worry. "No. That wouldn't be possible. Her room at the Institute was built to stop her from accessing people even just outside of the facility."

"Then how-?" I stuttered.

Tenderly, he brushed his lips with mine, instantly spreading tingles (and sparks) through my body. The kiss was slow, gentle, heavy with emotion while the touch was as light as a feather.

He pulled back just enough so that he could form words, which meant that his soft lips still brushed mine with every paralyzing word. "I think they let her out."


	99. NINETY-NINE

**NINETY-NINE**

 _I think they let her out._

My heart chilled and I froze. Was Max right? Had they - our enemies - let a psychotic person out of her confinement? A person that seemed to have her eyes set on Max? A person that would not exactly be rooting for my involvement in Max's life?

What would this mean for the battle? For the rebellion? She was basically a loose cannon, from what I could gather.

"I might be wrong," Max said quietly, as he silently traced my line of thought.

I slowly shook my head, my thoughts miles away. "No... No..." It sounded right. If that girl hadn't been able to contact us - or at least Max - earlier, why was she suddenly able to contact us now? Even with our connection supposedly protecting us?

She was going to be used as a weapon by the opposition. It was perfect, really. Most likely, no one valued her life, since she was so messed up. Consequently, her eventual (accidental) death would not be a great loss. Nevertheless, she had the chance to do great damage before she died, serving our enemies in taking out some of our people.

Like letting a rabid tiger out of its cage to see how many individuals it would kill before it could be stopped.

Max's eyes were worried as he looked at me, his pupils dilated and dark. I could read his thoughts, feel his emotions, and we were reaching the same conclusions.

The addition of Tess Carter to the war would twist the battle into unpredictability. And that was dangerous.

My voice was breaking with tension when I asked, "Is there a way to find out for sure? If she's out or not?"

"I'm gonna talk to my father and Dresden about this."

I nodded, feeling the weight of my new reality hang heavily on my shoulders.

"Hey." The warm pad of his finger pressed underneath my chin, gently urging my eyes up to his. His light brown eyes spoke directly into my heart when he tenderly said, "This is why I've kept so much from you before." He let out a tired, although light, sigh. "My world is just too much. It's one thing after the other. It's extreme now, but it's always been something. Even before this rebellion."

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never diverting from my face. "I wanted to protect you from all of this crap. At least I'm born into this and have always expected the shit to the fan." He brushed the side of his thumb like a feather over my cheekbone. "But you weren't. The Antarians just granted themselves the right to rule over your life."

He slowly licked his lips, looking increasingly plagued. My eyes went to his well-detailed lips, focusing on my memories of how those lips felt against mine. How they tasted. How soft and warm they were. How they sent thrills right into every cell of my body.

"We have ruined your life to prepare our own people for a potential conflict."

I reached up and pressed a finger to those soft lips, fiercely shaking my head in negative. "Not you. _Them._ " He dropped his eyes, but I continued, addressing the back of his eyelids, " _You_ have always tried to shield me from that reality. To make my life normal."

He pulled his head backwards slightly, giving him the chance to protest, "And what good did that do?" The bitterness to his voice was clawing against the internal lining of my stomach. "You're in more danger than you have ever been. I've completely failed at protecting you. Instead I just brought you deeper."

I wasn't really prepared for this turn of the conversation. We had just been discussing the deranged girl that he was supposed to procreate with and spend his life with, and now he was quickly tumbling down this deep murky pit of self-loathing.

I frowned. "We have been over this, Max. I don't blame you for anything. All you're guilty of is trying to protect me. You've been stuck between a rock and a hard place. What were you supposed to do?"

His eyes were dark as he interpreted my question as rhetorical. So I asked again, "No, seriously. What else were you supposed to have done? How would you have acted differently if you could do this all over again?"

His eyes narrowed, his gaze turning skeptical. "I wouldn't have gone along with those sessions at your place when you were growing up. I never wanted anything to do with that. I couldn't stand watching that fear in your eyes when they held you down, and I hated to see the memory blink out from your eyes when they erased it."

"But those sessions would have happened even without you there, right?" I hinted, the tone of my voice insistent.

"Of course," Max said darkly.

"Wasn't it for the best that you were there then? To help me through that?"

"I didn't help you at all," Max objected, his face turning darker with anger. Anger at himself. Anger for not standing up for me. For failing at giving me a normal childhood and youth.

"You must have done something," I pressed, my voice growing softer the harder his got. "Otherwise I would never have trusted you later on. If I had viewed you as one of my enemies, even if it was only a blurry detail from my subconscious, I would have a lot of trouble trusting you."

"No, you-"

I interrupted him with a, "I still have a problem trusting your father. Even though he's proven to be on our side lately. It must be because something deep inside of me is still warning me about him. Because he wasn't that nice to me when I was younger."

Max's jaw clenched, his teeth almost blocking the words as he bit out, "No, he wasn't."

I swallowed slowly, the inquisitive part of my personality wanting to dig further and have Max reveal what I had been forced to forget from those visits when I was younger, but the majority of me decided to move on.

Clearing my throat, I prompted, "What else? What else could you have done differently?"

His reply was instant. He had thought about this a lot. Mulled it over in his head. Back and forth. Over and over. Like some evil game of self-torture.

"I would have checked my bedroom before healing Isabel. That way you never would have seen me use my powers and I never would have to remove memories from your mind."

I softened. "I would have preferred you not messing with my mind. I think you know by now how I feel about you aliens manipulating human minds." I hurried to continue when Max looked like he was about to start talking, "But, again, it was to protect me from information that maybe I wasn't ready to hear yet." I quickly added, in mumbled afterthought, "If one can ever be ready for that type of information..."

I tried to smile, tried to lighten the situation, but Max wasn't having any of it. He was in a funk. Probably brought on by the reminder of Tess. Yet another person that threatened to come between us. In the most deadly of ways.

"I would have found out sooner or later anyway, Max," I tried. "This way I found out before I ended up being bonded to Sean."

"I could have handled it another way-"

"The connection protected me from Sean's advances."

"I know-"

"Do you?" I asked tightly. "Do you actually realize that it was for the best? Because there was no way in hell that you could have stopped Sean from bonding with me. Unless you killed him that is. And for that, the Sergeant would most likely have killed _you_. The only way to interfere with Sean's plans was to provide me with an internal protection system. The connection."

He looked clearly bothered. Annoyed, bordering on angry. His eyebrows were so closely pulled together that a deep groove the depth of Grand Canyon was forming above the straight line of his nose.

I cradled his face in my palm, demanding his full attention. "Don't you see? Everything had to happen this way. Or else we wouldn't have been here right now. This idea you have that I might have ever been free to lead a normal life is just bullshit. As soon as the Antarians landed on Earth, my fate was decided. Being born a gaea, there was no way - except changing the laws - that would give me a normal human life. You could not change that. Not you alone."

His eyes were blank. I knew that he was listening. I knew that the information was reaching him. But he appeared frozen while I tried to convince him of his self-worth.

"You and Alex have always fought to keep me safe. You have even broken laws. You have gone behind the backs of dangerous superiors. Even when you knew that I could not be saved. You wanted to let me have a normal life for as long as possible. I'm convinced that even if I were to have bonded with Sean, you _still_ would have been there, looking after me. Healing me from whatever damage Sean might have caused. Even with the risk of going under for having to witness me with Sean."

The darkest of emotions were creeping into his eyes. The scenario I was painting was one he was uncomfortably familiar with. It was the scenario that had been his future up until that Halloween party.

The tips of my fingers pressed harder into the stubble covering his cheeks, emphasizing what I needed to say, "Thank you, Max. For keeping me safe. For caring for me, even when I was treating you like air. Even treating you like a monster."

"Your memories were continuously erased, you had no reason to treat me as anything _but_ air," Max protested, speaking for the first time in a minute.

I ignored his input, a silent tear running down my cheek. "Thank you for giving me a shot at life. Even if it's an interesting type of life..." I tried to smile again, but he was still not amused. "You gave me a life with _you_ and that's the best life I could have."

"Liz..." he shook his head, looking really sad. "Don't say that-"

His protest angered me, because of what it insinuated. "This is not pity, Max. It's not me settling for the better alternative or being forced to choose you in a situation where I'm given bad options. I choose you _despite_ that. We belong together. Even if we had both been human or both been alien. We were meant for each other. The strength of our connection should tell you that. The fact that we seem to have connected even as young kids should tell you that."

I bent forward and pressed my lips to his, just letting our lips rest against each other. Letting the energy of my love flow into his being through that small seemingly insignificant touch, lasting barely two seconds.

Pulling back, I whispered, "You need to let go of your guilt. You're an amazing person, Max. You're so caring and protective. You're incredibly unselfish. You put up with other people's pain just to be able to heal them and make them feel better."

My heart squeezed when I saw the sheen of tears gathering in his eyes. He did so much, yet people rarely complimented him for it. Because it was considered his _job_. "You believe in our connection. I know you do. You showed me as much just a couple of hours ago. But you have to see that you are just as much worth as I am. That we are equal."

He dropped his eyes. He was struggling to keep his mask up.

With a whispered, "Hey," I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled his head down towards me. I pressed my face into the curve of his neck and held him close.

At first he was quiet, his arms strong as they wrapped them around my middle and returned my hug. After a couple of seconds his body started shaking. The trembles were small at first but gradually they reached greater magnitude until a sob broke through and took the steam out of the impending earthquake.

They were not sniffles and it was not the soft sound of quiet sobs. This was the sound of a man letting go of the iron control he usually had over his emotions. This was the sound of a man rarely hearing a nice word about himself and having put up a shield around his emotions to not let the more frequent bad comments get to him.

These were the sounds of a man I loved with my whole being. Who trusted me enough to let his guard down. At a time when he felt like he had to be the most on his toes. At a time when war was raging outside of his borders. At a time when he had to be the strongest.

My arms tightened around his shoulders. It felt oddly humbling to comfort someone that had the power to end someone's life with blasts of concentrated energy but who also had the power to remove cancer and life threatening injuries.

I placed occasionally kisses along the side of his throat while he cried. I felt the wetness of his tears against the top of my shoulder, where the collar of my shirt started.

He didn't cry for long. He wouldn't allow himself that reprieve.

Tears were running down my own cheeks by the time he loosened his grip around my middle and I let him go.

Brushing at my tears with my palms, I peeked up at him, feeling worried that I might have upset him too much. "You okay?"

I had expected him to avoid meeting my searching eyes, but he surprised me by looking at me straight on, with reddened shiny eyes, and offering me a courageous smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I lovingly brushed the tears off his cheeks with my thumb, the movement slow and thorough. He kept looking at me the entire time.

"We're gonna get through this, you know," he mumbled. "There's nothing stopping us as long as we support each other."

It was the best he had said in a long time. I immediately felt the relief spread through me like a cool breeze.

He believed in us. That made us unstoppable.

"Max."

We both jumped, Max instinctively angling me behind him and raising his arm towards the interrupting voice, prepared to defend us.

But it was only Dresden. Looking very relaxed with a weapon (which Max's arm practically was) pointed at him.

Max inhaled sharply, lowered his arm and said, "Yes?"

"I think it's time I inform the group of the history of the rebellion."

Max's eyes flickered to my face, to gauge my reaction. I hadn't had time to react yet.

Before I came up with a reaction, Max gave Dresden a nod, took my hand and we started walking towards Dresden.

"About time," Max grumbled under his breath, squeezing my hand.

I guess no one had been able to go back to sleep after I had woken them all up with my dream about Tess.

Isabel was discussing something with her father. Diane was talking to my father. Michael was standing at the door as we walked in, his features hard and unreadable.

To my surprise, Maria was talking quietly to Alex, their heads bent close together, immersed in their own little bubble. For some reason, this made me very happy. Because Maria didn't seem upset. The scene depicted a private conversation between friends. A confidential, comfortable conversation.

"Okay, everyone," Dresden boomed, making everyone jump in their spot. "Let's sit in a circle."

The reactions to Dresden's order were not filled with excited joy or positive anticipation of what the leader of the rebellion might have to say.

Instead the members of the group reacted as would a wary group of students when faced with a daunting assignment. Carefully, they got to their feet, exchanged looks of uncertainty tinged with fear, and shuffled towards the tall black-haired man.

With some hesitation, Alex was the first one to take a seat - crosslegged - on the cold floor. Maria looked down at her friend, before looking towards Dresden and then at the rest of the group. Her face was screaming fear and ambivalence.

Maria was the last one to sit down. I knew because I watched her the whole time. I watched her as she observed Isabel sitting down, pulling Michael down next to her, Maria's eyes lingering cautiously on the tall alien that had proclaimed himself her personal protector. I watched her studying the way my father rather gingerly took a place, looking stiff and out of place sitting on the floor. Next her gaze flickered to Max's parents, who sat down simultaneously, with almost eerie fluidity and ease.

Her eyes met mine when Max - by a tug on our interlocked fingers - pulled me down in front of his quickly crossing legs. I was acutely aware of him as he quickly rearranged his legs once I had sat down in front of him, to instead have them flank my sides, pulling my back up against his chest and hugging his arms around my middle while his knees pressed up against the sides of mine.

I never took my eyes off Maria's face.

She was the last one to sit down. In a hesitant, worried manner. As if sitting down on the floor in this unceremonious circle signaled the beginning to the trial of her survival.

"I'll try to keep this short," Dresden said, making me finally look away from Maria.

"We all need to get more sleep than this," Dresden continued pragmatically.

Except for Michael's grunted "No kidding", the room was silent, awaiting the information that they had been promised.

I realized then that it was not only humans that were oblivious to whatever knowledge might be provided at this impromptu meeting. A lot of things had been kept secret even from the Antarians.

"Reports have been spilling in from our men around the area, confirming that Theresa Carter, also known as Tess, has been released from her custody. I wanted to keep the information overload to a minimum for some time still, instead having you focus on training, but the unfortunate release of Miss Carter warrants for some more hasty briefing." Without breaking speed, Dresden interrupted himself and prompted questioningly, "Yes?"

Surprised, I looked in the direction of his gaze and saw Maria slowly lowering her hand. The feeling of being in a circle of school kids reappeared as Maria's recently raised hand had asked permission to ask a question.

Her voice was surprisingly strong when she spoke, but it lacked stability and volume signaling her insecurity about her role in this situation. "What do you mean by custody? And if she's our age, why hasn't she attended school? Why don't we know of her?"

My eyes flickered back to Dresden, afraid that he might be upset about the interruption. I didn't know him that well yet.

But, to my relief, Dresden's face softened and there was a small curve of understanding to his mouth. "I know that you're confused, Ms. DeLuca. You are not alone. A large part of the information I'm about to give you have been withheld even from our own people. But I'll try and answer all your questions. Okay?"

Maria nodded mutely. She almost looked surprised. I think I had the same expression on my face. Surprise at how nice Dresden actually seemed.

"Okay," Dresden repeated in agreement and let his gaze move around the circle. "Right. Let's try and take this from the beginning, shall we?"


	100. ONE ZERO ZERO

**ONE ZERO ZERO**

"To try and avoid making this briefing too long, I will be starting with the arrival of the Antarians to planet Earth. The reasons behind our need to leave our own planet are numerous and cross several centuries, hence I won't be going into too deep detail about it. Maybe I'll tell you more later."

He paused, maybe expecting protests, but the human-alien circle was silent.

"The Antarian government sent two ships to Earth. The travelers were mostly young adults, handpicked with respect to their special abilities and their personalities. Unfortunately, some youngsters got their spot on the ship because their families had struck deals. This is how we ended up with Antarians equipped with some dangerous traits on Earth."

He took a deep breath and shifted in position. He was still standing up, at the north end of the seated listeners.

"Antar was once a monarchy, ruled by a king. The royal bloodline was truly blood-based, meaning that those of royal ancestry had more magnified abilities due to genetic differences."

My thoughts backtracked to what I had been told about Command. About how he had royal blood, meaning that he could adopt abilities - even special ones - and make them his own.

I shuddered at the prospect of a whole planet being ruled by men with that kind of power.

"Then came the Blood War. Just like on Earth, there was a movement away from the royal reign as the people started to demand more rights for themselves. The war spanned many years, but eventually the people overthrew the royal domination. Rulers were chosen by the people and a large governmental apparatus - much like the ones in a majority of the countries on Earth - developed."

I squeezed Max's hand. He was as still as the rest of the group. I could tell from his mind processes that he had heard all of this before, but he was still paying strict attention to what was being said. As if he might learn something new.

"Unfortunately, the price for changing the ruling authority was very high. Not only were hundreds of thousands of Antarian lives lost in the war, but our planet had been severely damaged in the process. The new government was exceedingly scientifically oriented, with great research facilities and great minds, enabling them to postpone the inevitable for much longer than should have been possible. But still, the planet was deteriorating and the project to try and save Antarians through space relocation was initiated."

Dresden inhaled deeply. It was a loud sigh, uncharacteristic of an alien, considering that the aliens I knew did not display exaggerated mannerisms.

What he was intending to say next was most likely something of great importance.

"Antarian scientists visited Earth a long time ago. Even before the Blood War. Intellectuals were worried about the increasing instances of inbreeding within the royal families. By marrying within their own group, they could sustain the power of their abilities and become stronger."

I felt Max stiffen behind me. Something about that information did not sit right with what he had learnt as a child.

Dresden's gaze moved steadily around the circle, pausing a second too long on Max and I before continuing, "What you need to understand is that Antarians are a peaceful people."

A broken halted sound came from behind my neck, from Max. I assumed it was supposed to be a snort, but he was too puzzled to get it right.

Instead his defensive and irritated thought flew through my mind, _Peaceful my ass._

And from what I had seen, heard, and first-hand experienced about the aliens, I could do nothing but agree with Max. With their lack of empathy, their lust to use humans for their own purposes and their need to dictate over their own people, I had seen nothing 'peaceful' about the ones calling themselves Antarians.

Dresden's eyes slowly moved back to Max at his poorly produced snort. "A very spiritual race." He was calm and collected. And deadly serious. "The Antarians were well connected to the universe, to nature, to the good."

He blinked and shifted his eyes away from Max and I. "But the greed and darkness of the royal families oddly enough seemed to be able to infect the regular Antarians. Like they were becoming infected with evil. We lost the connection to the universe. With that, we started to lose the connection to each other. Only through connections made through mating could Antarians occasionally feel real empathy and - what you on Earth call - love."

Max was feeling cheated. He had been told one thing; that his people were naturally disconnected from their feelings - except the most primal ones. Was it all a lie? Was it instead a cover-up to hide the true reason - the disconnection to the universe - that the Antarians had experienced?

"The ones that worked for the Royals - the military, for instance - were most badly afflicted. A darkness spread within them that started to change, generation by generation, not only their behavior but also their physical appearance. They started to look more and more like the Royals."

"To save the pureness - the good - of the Antarian race, scientist came up with a backup plan. Find a planet which could sustain our race, and essentially reboot our people. Start all over. Without the Royals."

He paused. The listeners were all frozen in silence.

"It took many years for our scientists to find Earth's solar system. When they did, all of the planets within your solar system were thoroughly investigated for the possibility of habitation. Due to the existence of water on Earth - enabling rich life - our scientists focused mostly on Earth. Of course, your planet was already inhabited by a vast variety of living creatures. And the creature that seemed eerily a lot like Antarians - especially in intelligence, behavior and culture - were the homo sapiens. The civilizations created by human beings were very similar to our own. Therefore, they…" Dresden cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable, "…'borrowed' humans to test for similarities."

 _Alien abductions,_ I thought, chills running down my spine.

"It was amazing how similar our internal systems were to those of human beings. Using genetic markers, we could adapt our bodies to imitate those of homo sapiens. This meant that humans could bear our children and human sperm could impregnate Antarian females."

Dresden paused, and I followed his gaze along with the encouraging lift of his eyebrow to Maria. Who once again had raised her hand.

"Yes?"

Her eyes skipped around the circle for a second before she haltingly asked, "How is it possible that you look _so much_ like humans if you are from a completely different solar system?"

"We don't look like humans," Dresden answered.

I pressed further back into Max's chest and his arms automatically tightened around me. Most of the time I could ignore the fact that Antarians actually didn't look like humans at all. That they were all hiding behind a manufactured front.

I had seen what they actually looked like. I had seen it when Sergeant had died. When I had killed Sean through the protective instinct of the connection. Now, with Dresden's information hanging in the air, I wondered if Sean and Steven Carter had looked more like Command in their true form, or more like the regular Antarian. Because I had started to understand that they were different. And considering that Sean and Steven were both raised in military, they were possibly more like Royals by the time of their death.

I saw Maria's face pale and as if on natural instinct she immediately searched out my eyes. Her eyes were glistening with fear and her lips were shaking, moving, as if she wanted to say something else. As if she needed to communicate something to me.

"Pure Antarians look different from humans on the outside, even though our shape is humanoid. Our internal systems - lungs, gastrointestinal tract, heart, reproductive systems, urinary, and so on - are significantly similar to human beings. So much so that our scientists could develop medical agents to connect our genomes."

Maria looked confused. Probably overwhelmed by the information and the advanced terminology. Shakily, she asked, reflecting his own choice of words, "Are you a pure Antarian?"

"Yes," Dresden answered, his voice even and unwavering.

"But you look human," Maria told him. Her voice was small and unsteady. She was transforming into a frightened child.

"We have taken on a different shape," Dresden replied. "I think your pop culture are calling it 'shapeshifting'."

Maria's gulp was so loud that I was certain everyone in the room had heard it. You could almost see her skipping past all the million questions that instantly arose and reluctantly settling for, "Are all of you…shapeshifters?"

I was afraid for her. I could feel her fear in my bones. Like it was my own. My innate reaction was to take her out of here, to calm her down.

But Dresden continued to be calm, more empathic warmth moving into his facial features. He seemed to understand that Maria needed comfort and assurance. "In this room, it's only Philip and I. Diane is human and so is Elizabeth's father. You are human, as well as Elizabeth. The rest are hybrids. Successful crosses between human and Antarian races."

I decided to bug into the conversation as well at this point. "It was descendants of the royals that bought themselves seats on the ships, wasn't it? They were not meant to be sent to Earth."

Dresden nodded. "Exactly. But we'll get back to that." He cleared his throat. "First, I need to highlight something very important."

All the fine hairs across every part of my body stood up, alerting me to his tone of voice.

"The scientists, when they first discovered Earth approximately 1200 years ago, attempted to hide away the pure essence of our race within the human population."

1200 years?!

I swallowed.

Hiding away the pure essence?

A large tremble ran through me. Max's arms tightened around my middle.

Max didn't know what was to come next. He didn't know this. He had no idea that Antarians had visited Earth as early as the 9th century.

"The Royals have no idea of this. Almost no one knows of this. This is the backup plan."

"What the hell…?"

Michael. His statement was delivered in a cold calm manner, even though he was clearly angry. The darkness in his eyes when I looked at him told me that he was actually livid.

"The individual most connected to the Universe, to our planet, to goodness, is called a parim."

I felt myself go limp, my body falling back against Max's. All energy left me. Coldness crept into my cheeks, the blood left all my extremities and went to hide in the center of my body.

"So it's true?" Max asked, his voice hoarse and raspy. "Parims exist."

Dresden nodded. "But they are so rare that they have become mythical."

"They hid parims away on Earth?" Isabel asked, glancing at Max and I.

I wondered, not for the first time, how much Isabel knew.

Dresden slowly shook his head, the movement so slow it became deliberate. "One parim sacrificed himself to be transfused into human beings. His energy was divided up and implanted in the most suitable human beings. Basically, these humans were infused with good energy. It wouldn't, on its own, make them into parims. More factors are involved, factors we don't really understand or know about. But the Antarian scientists discovered that the energy from parims could only be put into female humans."

Warning bells. Loud and clear. _Females._ Where had I heard this before…?

Before I could put it all together, Dresden filled in the blanks with one sentence, "The product of the union between the energy from a parim and a female homo sapiens is something we are nowadays calling a _gaea_."

I didn't know I was shaking. Couldn't process it. It was only Max's worried thoughts about those shakes that made me somewhat aware of it.

I was putting it all together. Together with Max.

I was a gaea.

I was a gaea because my mother was a gaea and her mother before her. And so on.

I was a gaea because aliens implanted pure energy into the genome of my ancestors in the 9th century.

Did that mean that I was partly alien? Was that why Max and I could connect in this manner?

Was that why-

The words tumbled out of me, trembling and weakened, "There's a possibility that I'm a parim." I imagined myself being able to _hear_ Maria's head turn to look at me - like the sharp opening of a heavy door - her eyes springing wide open. "Is this because of that alien energy? How…Then how-?"

Dresden interrupted when I started stuttering, not knowing how to ask anymore. "Yes, Elizabeth. You are a gaea. And you are also a parim. There is something inside of you that has enhanced the Antarian energy, making you into a pure individual."

My heart was beating so hard against the inside of my chest that I was expecting it to break through my ribs at any point.

"Max's grandfather was the one to put it all together. With the birth of you and Max, Asai - known as George here on Earth - realized what the Antarian scientists had been planning to create those many years ago."

"What?" Maria, to my surprise, whispered.

"A union between two parims might be the only way to purify the race and eliminate evil. To put it more simple; to reboot the race."

All eyes were on Max and I now, and the blood that had previously left my face was rapidly refilling my cheeks.

While trying to ignore the rest, I focused on Dresden's face, needing him to tell me more. He did what I silently begged him to.

"We are not really sure how this will go about, technically, but the connection between the two of you is powerful. Powerful enough to withstand - and _conquer_ \- the descendants of the Royal families and the corrupted. This is where the rebels failed on Antar. The Royals could not be destroyed, only removed from the ruling power. They were too vicious, too powerful, to be eliminated. But ever since the birth of you two, and especially since you naturally connected when you were just children, we have gained some hope."

"This is why there hasn't been a rebellion until now," I realized quietly.

"Precisely," Dresden agreed.

"You have been waiting us out," Max filled in.

"It takes many years to build a resistance powerful enough to take down those men. We needed to be sure that we had a fighting chance to survive even if you two were to perish during the battle. Or die before then."

I tried to ignore the chill that went through me when Dresden casually mentioned our possible death.

"If we're that important, why didn't you rescue us sooner?" Max asked darkly, his body warm with anger against my back. "When we were being held by Command?"

"We had men on the inside-" Dresden started calmly, but Max interrupted him.

"No." His voice deadly. "No. That's not good enough. We were _tortured_."

I squeezed my eyes closed at the onslaught of memories from those days in captivity. But not just _my_ days. Max's as well. Previously, he hadn't let me see all of it. But now it was slipping through.

"I'm very sorry about that," Dresden said softly, and did - indeed - sound sorry. "We tried to get you out as discreetly as possible. You have to understand that it would be too dangerous to break in and get you out. It would be risking your lives. And we knew that they would not kill you. You are too valuable to them. We had to wait out the right opportunity. Which Command gave us when he moved you together."

Max wanted to protest, but I cut him off, needing Dresden to tell me, "How much does Command know about us? What are we to him?"

I felt Max's chest press up against my back as his withheld breath kept his chest expanded, while awaiting the reply to that question.

"What I've told you just now - about parims and the infusing of energy into the human genome, about the plan to remove the darkness out of the race and bring back our connection to the universe and what is good - it's all top secret. No one knows about this. Only a handful. As far as we know, Command and his allegiance don't know any of this. Command is interested in you because of your connection. Because you can communicate with your minds. Because Elizabeth - a human - can borrow Max's abilities through the connection. Command understands that you two are important to the Rebellion and thus he wants you to himself. But he wouldn't destroy you. It goes against his nature."

I frowned. Destroying us seemed to go completely _with_ Command's nature.

"His nature is to steal. He's blinded by power, just like his ancestors. He wants more and more. He's been trying to get the healing ability his whole life, but has never been able to. With Elizabeth using Max's abilities through the connection, Command had a theory that even Max's _healing trait_ could be shared. Which meant that he would have to get into that connection. Connect with Max. This is why - after all attempts at breaking your connection in captivity - he decided to put you together."

When Dresden paused, I whispered, "Why?"

Dresden met my worried eyes, his voice softening along with the fine crinkles around his eyes. It made him look nice, like someone you could really trust and confide in. "His plan was to hurt Max, with his father on stand-by to heal Max if things didn't work out. You, Elizabeth, would not be aware of there being a stand-by. You would only be desperate to help Max. So desperate that you might - through your connection - heal him."

My throat was dry. Command's plan to hurt Max had hot anger boil up my throat. Just like Dresden insinuated, Command was darkness. All darkness.

"You actually proved him right," Dresden pointed out. "You healed Max. Although it was not in that room, but in the tunnels earlier."

"Command's plan has always been to get more power, get more abilities," Max observed in a mumble.

Dresden nodded seriously. "Which is why Antarians like him need to be stopped. If they continue to grow in number, they could become dangerous - not only to Antarians - but to the human population. They wouldn't hesitate to transform the human population into mindless slaves, just to gain as much power and abilities as possible. They would suck every human being dry. It would be the end of the homo sapiens as a sentient, intelligent race with a free will."

Anger was pumping into my veins, filling me up. I could feel the connection answering in my mind, could feel it propelling the energy back and forth between Max and I.

My hands tightened around the back of Max's hands resting against the lower part of my abdomen and in unison - in an eerie monotone voice - we said, "We need to kill that bastard. Now."


	101. ONE ZERO ONE

**ONE ZERO ONE**

Our threat continued to bounce off the walls, taking on a life of its own while every set of eyes turned to look at Max and me.

 _We need to kill that bastard. Now._

But neither the darkness of our united voices nor the eeriness of its delivery seemed to faze Dresden. His tone of voice remained the same as he calmly interjected, "Not yet, you don't."

"There's still more for you to learn," Mr. Evans said, speaking for the first time since we had been placed in a circle on the floor like some 6-year-olds.

In a way, I found it a bit annoying that it was suddenly of such acute importance that we were briefed in detail when they had been as tight-mouthed as the most tenacious clams earlier.

For some reason I felt scolded. As if we were children that needed to be put in time-out because the grown-ups were talking. In an appropriate childish response, I pressed my lips together, the corners of my mouth turning down in sulkiness, while I silently started chewing on the inside of my bottom lip.

"Fine," Max muttered, sharing my general mood. "Then explain to me why you would still pair me up with Tess and why Liz should be paired with Sean, if your plan all along was to get me and Liz together."

Dresden opened his mouth to answer, but Max lifted one of his hands off my lower stomach to interrupt, "I understand that you needed to go along with those plans to cover up your own plans. But what I _don't_ get is why _you_ , Dad, would be so adamant at making me believe that I was committing something of a sin by getting involved with Liz. Even _talking_ to her outside of those sessions with you and Sean pissed you off. Wouldn't it had been easier to have included me in your plans? To have me play along? Maybe I would have treated the situation differently. Maybe I wouldn't have put Liz's life in any more danger than she already was. Maybe we wouldn't have ended up as _prisoners_."

I saw Mr. Evans' mouth open to answer, but Max had one final thing to add, "And why did you push for a meeting with Command and the rest of those psychos if you knew that it would put us in danger? That's an extremely risky plan. Anything could have happened. Sean _did_ happen. He tried to kill me twice."

Dresden was looking at Mr. Evans. Mr. Evans was looking at his son. He didn't seem pleased. Diane slowly put her hand on her husband's underarm. As if to calm him.

Except for the area in the middle of my back which was most firmly pressed against Max's front, I felt cold all over. For not the first time, this group of aliens made me feel alone. Alone with Max. Even though they had just made clear how important Max and I were to the revolution, it was still as if we were fighting this battle alone. Just like we had done from the start.

Before I had been informed of what was going on, Max had been fighting all alone. Protecting me the best he could when his own father had drawn my blood and scared me, in those repeated bedroom visits interspersed throughout my upbringing. Max had most likely looked out for me in other ways too, even though he was too modest to tell me about it. Protecting me and keeping me alive was as natural to him as breathing. It was not an obligation or a job, it was more important to him than his own life.

Would I ever be able to fully trust these people? In more ways than one, they made me feel like an experiment. They had been testing me my whole life, trying to determine whether I would be strong enough to mentally survive those numerous memory wipes during my childhood. Would I be strong enough to resist Sean connecting with me? Would I find my way to Max and trust him? Would Max and I connect? Would we become everything we were meant to become?

That was a lot of guessing. And a lot of things hanging in the balance. A lot of things that could have gone wrong.

"It might not seem like it," Mr. Evans started, his voice as calm as Dresden's, but much colder, "but we have been keeping close tabs on what's been going on. To not raise any suspicions we had to go along with the pairings suggested by Command. Considering what happened between you two in my living room when you were only five, it was crucial that we worked hard to keep you apart. With the pull you felt towards each other, the risk of you unwittingly exposing yourself - not just to humans, but to Antarians - was enormous. Also, we could not tell you or Liz anything, in the event of them getting into your minds. Everything the rebellion had fought to build up would be lost the second they saw the plans - _our plans_ \- in your mind, Max."

There was a pause, at which Dresden picked up at the end of Mr. Evans' string of answers and developed further, "You make a lot of connections with individuals to heal them, Max. Do you have any idea what information they might access in your mind that way?"

Max stiffened behind me. To suggest that he was offended by Dresden's statement would be an understatement. "I don't let them see my thoughts or my memories-"

Max's father raised a questioning eyebrow, "Even when you were in training?"

I didn't like the condescending tone in his voice one bit. Neither did Max.

Max's provocation was a cold silent explosion, dripping with sarcasm, "What about you, Dad? You have known about this from when I was just a baby. How is it that you didn't slip up and reveal something to someone you were healing?"

Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes. "That's different, Max, and you know it."

A loud sigh was heard from the left of the circle, directly followed by Michael's annoyed voice, "Do we really have time for this? So what? They didn't tell you." Another sigh. "Fine. Now, let's move on. I'm assuming that there's more to this story than bruised egos."

I wondered if Michael was allowed to speak like that. Even though he obviously had a short temper, I had come to understand that he was keen to follow orders, to listen to authority. Had this whole thing lessened his respect for the men in charge in this room? What could that mean? Would that make Michael a loose cannon?

But then I saw Michael look to his right, towards Maria, his hard expression softening even though Maria didn't see him looking - her gaze being fixed on Dresden as if she couldn't look away, and I quickly reached the conclusion that Michael would not betray this group. If only with the aim to remain on the same side as Maria.

What was really going on there?

Dresden gave Michael a hard look, which completely passed Michael by as he was still looking at Maria's profile, before Dresden said, "It is important for parims to find each other naturally. Their wills cannot be manipulated. _Especially_ not when choosing their mate. There are tales of this tainting their purity, meaning that their efforts at restoring the goodness of our race won't be strong enough."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

Dresden looked at me directly, his face warming. I got the feeling that he had - in some way - always watched me. Watched over me.

Not in a stalker way. More like a protective father figure.

"It means that you and Max needed to fall in love on your own. If we had interfered and told you two that you had to be together, you might have grown to resent each other only because you were forced. Even if you are obviously meant to be together, you had to find each other in your own way and walk your own path." He paused and cleared his throat. "And I understand that it might sound awful, but we realized already from the time that you connected as children that you would be even more tightly bound together if you had to fight for it. How the concept of 'us versus them' has a tendency to bring people close together. Thus, Philip's job was to push you, Max, as far away from Liz as possible. To ignite your protectiveness towards Liz. To make you long for her."

I felt that blush heat my cheeks anew. Why did our love life have to be discussed in a circle in front of everyone?

It didn't help matters that Dresden's words were followed by silence, letting the expected awkwardness creep into the air around us.

"I have a question about that," Max spoke up, his voice controlled and even, although I could hear in his thoughts that he was shaken, embarrassed and a tad pissed off about how his life had been 'handled'.

"What really happened at the Institute? When I was young? And... Why did you allow me to be placed in a room with Tess, with the risk of something happening that would jeopardize my future connection with Liz?"

It was not until then that I came to realize that Dresden had worked at the Institute. As clearly as the room before me, I saw his face distinctly appear in Max's memories from that time.

"You worked there?" I asked with my throat drying up.

"Yes," Dresden answered gravely. "The Institute was the place where Command sent those Antarians who had started to show signs of resistance. Who had, for some reason or the other, started to object to the way in which humans were treated. That's where Command sent all dissidents to have their minds wiped of traitorous thoughts. The Antarians working at the Institute were all highly trained in matters of the mind. Their ability to manipulate minds had to be superior, because in contrast to humans, the Antarians still needed some information to be intact after the memory wipe. Which meant that it was not a true memory wipe, rather a tweaking of the thoughts to make them more in accord with Command's standing rules."

I curled my fingers more firmly around the back of Max's hand, still resting against my middle, seeking the calmness his very real physical presence brought me.

"That's why this was the perfect workplace for me," Dresden continued. "Philip's father, George, introduced me to Antar's true history around the time that Max and Liz connected that first time. George was literally standing on my doorstep in the middle of the night with Philip behind him, holding a sleeping five-year-old Max, asking if he could trust me. Apparently he had heard of my abilities and something about me had made him think that I might not be happy about how Command ran things. This was true, of course, but it worried me for quite some time that George Evans had seen this, since it presented me with the plausible reality of someone else also seeing this. Those were dangerous times to be caught working against Command and his people. But I soon realized that George saw things that no one else saw. Mostly because of his healing ability - which gave him the ability to read auras and energies - but also because of who he was."

Dresden paused, the momentary silence working to emphasize what he said next, "George Evans was a really great man. It's a shame that he didn't live long enough to see this."

Across Mr. Evans' mildly expressive face flickered a strong expression of fear and anger. On reflex, I jolted, pushing back into Max's body with my upper body.

After my thought of, _What had happened to George Evans?_ , Max's arms tightened almost painfully around my middle and from the suddenly erupted chaos in his mind, I could make out that he first now realized that his grandfather might have not died a peaceful death. Like Max had always been told.

But Dresden left us no time to mull this over, or even question Mr. Evans about it. His words leaving his mouth faster now, he continued, "George begged me to care for his grandson. He explained the situation of Max possibly connecting with Liz, a human gaea, and how it was pertinent that no one found out the real explanation behind why they had done so. George wanted to keep it all between us. That's how my wife got involved."

His wife?

"Sarah," I whispered, putting the pieces together. The maternal figure that had looked after Max at the Institute.

"Yes," Dresden replied. "Sarah."

"She is your wife?" Max asked, perplexed.

"She was."

The suction in my chest was as real as if it had been my own. But it wasn't mine, it was Max's. To him, it was like hearing that his mother had died. Because Sarah had been like a second mother to him.

"She's dead?" Max croaked, barely restrained emotions breaking his voice apart.

Dresden's eyes dropped. For a second, I actually believed his calm exterior might crack. I watched his chest move rapidly up and down, as if he was hyperventilating. Mr. Evans answered the question with sadness, making me recognize that she must have been loved, this Sarah. By many.

"She was killed when we broke Max and Liz out of the Institute, the night when Max was knifed by Sean."

No.

The guilt was devastating. The pain was burning. I didn't know Sarah, had and would never meet her, but still I felt guilty about her sacrificing her life to get us out.

But, it was hard to tell which emotions were my own and which were Max's.

"I loved my wife deeply," Dresden said, looking up with glistening eyes.

It was a difficult thing to see. This collected alien trying to stay away from the cold of the freezing grief that he probably had not had the chance to work through yet.

"And she loved me." His voice was thick, bordering on unrecognizable. "We never had any children. She was in a car accident when young and her uterus and one of her kidneys had to be removed. That night, when George and Philip came to visit us, was the first time Sarah met Max. Max stole her heart."

I swallowed tightly. Max was pulling me closer, even though it was not possible. He needed us to be alone right now. He needed to let go of the control over his emotions. And he could only do that in front of me.

But instead of being alone, we were stuck in that circle of bizarre storytelling.

"She was human, working at a hospital as a nurse. But she left her job that next day - after George's visit - to work with me at the Institute, to care for Max while we tried to figure out if we should break the connection he had formed with Liz or try and pause it instead."

"How did she die?" Max asked gravely.

Dresden looked directly at Max, a lonely tear escaping his wet eyes. "She never stopped caring for you, Max. So much so that she wanted to help in rescuing you that night. She knew the building very well and thought she would be an asset. I tried to stop her, I truly did. She was human after all, with no means of defending herself against us, but she always saw you as the son she never had. She knew the risk she was taking. I couldn't stop her. I always loved that about her; that I could never tell her what to do. She made her own decisions. And she was fearless. Especially when it came to the ones she loved."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, squeezing Max's thumb, trying to offer my condolences to both Dresden and Max.

Dresden attempted a grateful half-smile and with a wipe over his face with the palm of his hand, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. The Dresden we had seen since the beginning had returned; as calm and collected as before.

"I worked closely with Sarah at the Institute to develop memory blocks. We started using it on the dissidents to hide away their true thoughts instead of manipulating them. If it worked, it meant that we could activate the memory blocks at any time, giving the Antarians all the pertinent information back. After making some attempts with varying results on Antarians, we decided to try it out on a human."

Dresden looked to my father and I froze. Even though I knew of this before, it was still chilling to hear of my father being part of some larger scenario, a large rebellion.

"Jeff was needed to keep Elizabeth safe."

My father nodded, looking serious but not angry. I figured that he had come to peace with this a long time ago. He was probably happier to be included in all of this than to have been left out. At least now he felt as if he'd had a part in protecting me. That he had been considered important enough to be used for that purpose.

"Because as you can probably discern from what I've just told you all, it was important to protect Elizabeth."

"Which is why Alex was assigned to be my friend," I added, looking over at Alex and meeting his eyes.

His eyes searched my face, but he must have been comforted by what he found because he visibly relaxed and gave me a soft smile.

"So all this time, you were forming an army out of the people who didn't like Command's ruling?" Michael asked, curiosity in his voice.

"You are part of that army, Micheal," Dresden said and I watched Michael's face pale, before he erupted in a "What?!"

"Already as a 7-year-old, you started to object to how humans were being treated. You were in and out of the Institute a lot when you were little."

"Is that why he's so screwed up now?" Isabel asked.

The joke fell flat. Wrong crowd and wrong timing, I guess. I appreciated what she was trying to do, but the setting was too tense.

The semi-grin on Isabel's beautiful face slowly started slipping, when Dresden moved on as if she hadn't said a word, "Your father was the same. Which is why we decided to make you Max's protector. We knew that you would be loyal to Max. Not just as your duty, but as a friend."

I wanted to disagree. I still had a bone to pick with Michael.

But at the same time as I decided to not voice my opinion, Maria spoke up. It wouldn't surprise me if she had been looking at Dresden this whole time. And her inquiry had me questioning if she had actually heard a single word spoken since she had asked her own question almost twenty minutes ago.

"I want to see what you look like. I want you to shape-shift into your alien form." She was pale as she slowly licked her dry lips and repeated quietly, "I want to see what you look like."

Had she been thinking about that this whole time? Had she been debating with herself if she wanted to see it or not?

Instinctively I felt that _I_ didn't want to.

I had already seen what Sean and Sergeant had looked like. That was enough.

Why would Maria want to invite the nightmares into her mind?

"That's actually a good idea, Ms. DeLuca," Dresden, to my surprise, agreed. "You need to be prepared in case the opposition decides to drop their disguises just to freak you out and distract you. It might be dangerous to be oblivious about such a matter."

"Maria," I whispered, feeling cold all over. When her eyes turned to me, I asked, "Are you sure?"

Mutely, with wide-opened glistening eyes, white lips and grayish skin, she nodded.

She didn't look sure at all.

I watched her turn to face Dresden and her scream almost stopped my heart.

I jumped in my seat and would have been halfway to her place had Max's arms not been tight around my middle and keeping me in place. My body struggled in Max's grip and Maria's blood-curdling scream was still ringing around me when I snapped my eyes towards what was making Maria sound like she was about to die.

Dresden had dropped his human costume.


	102. ONE ZERO TWO

**ONE ZERO TWO**

At first, his eyes were all that I saw.

They were large. Extremely large. But oddly beautiful.

With Maria's scream fading and dying in my ears, Dresden's sapphire-colored eyes filled my vision.

After having seen Sean and Sergeant at the moment when death had undressed their human forms, Dresden's alien appearance was not frightening. My heart slamming hard against the inside of my ribs revealed that looking at someone who looked so different but still so much like a human, was indeed making me nervous. Although, the overwhelming feeling was relief.

Relief that he hadn't looked like _them_.

Dresden's face was thin, his mouth small. But at least he _had_ a mouth.

The room was silent. Deafeningly so. As if everyone was holding their breaths, while staring at Dresden. Even the hybrids - Isabel, Michael, Alex and Max - were silent.

In quiet peace, we were all observing this large man with his hairless head, the mere holes into the center of his face instead of an actual nose, and the oddly elongated flaps on both sides of his head, above those large ears. Similar openings were visible below his eyes. Gills, I realized. The flaps looked like gills.

He was slightly purple, his skin tinted in warm blue tones, rather than an earthy color base like a human being. The coloring was darker on his throat and down his exposed arms, while lighter on his face.

And he was tall. Standing up in this underground room, he had to hunch to be able to fit against the limit of the ceiling. Which would make him close to 8 feet.

His bald head was large and slightly transparent. I could see hints of his brain, the blood vessels running underneath the thin skin covering the skull.

But it was his eyes that captured me. Looking into them was like looking into a big pond of water. Gave me a sensation of falling. Of loosing my footing, but in a good way. Like it was a place I wanted to fall into. Where there was comfort and security.

Without the human disguise, I felt like I could finally read him. As if his 'human costume' had not correctly translated who he really was. What he felt.

Suddenly, he seemed instantly more empathetic. His face was humanoid enough for me to be able to easily see emotions shift over his face. Maybe his human shape had lessened his natural expression. Maybe that's what it did to all pure aliens. Maybe that's why I viewed the majority of the pure aliens I had met as cold and indifferent.

Like when you put a silicon mask on, and it, while made to fit your features, still appeared stiff and unable to translate the appropriate small movements of your expressions, muting your ability to display emotions.

I found myself instantly trusting this non-human in front of me.

Maybe that's why even Maria had grown silent. Maybe she was seeing what I was seeing. Maybe she was seeing the true goodness in Dresden's face.

Close to no time had passed, but it felt like forever. I had to physically tear my eyes away from Dresden to look at Diane. I wanted to see if she was frightened. Because she was actually _married_ to a pure Antarian. If she had never seen what they looked like, this might freak her out.

But the breath got stuck in my throat as my eyes fell on her (on the person seated next to her). Next to her was Max's father. In his true alien form.

A tremble went through me. Mostly out of surprise at unexpectedly seeing him like that. Much the same as with Dresden, Mr. Evans looked _nicer_ without his human shell. His large eyes connected with mine and I was overwhelmed with the need to cry. To cry from relief and happiness stemming from finally understanding who he was and finally feeling that Max's father truly was on our side.

Even if I could clearly see that they were not related, the basic attributes of Mr. Evans' non-human appearance were similar to Dresden's.

However, while Dresden's skin was purplish, Mr. Evans' coloring was more blue, making his large eyes shift in shades of green cobalt against the light blueness of his face.

Mr. Evans was obviously of the same large alien size as Dresden, but appeared smaller than Dresden. He was still sitting down, looking like a giant next to his human wife, but I could guesstimate from the width of his chest that he was slightly shorter than the leader of the rebellion.

This time, when Maria let out a loud gasp that abruptly cut through the somewhat reverential silence of the room, Max's grip was no longer strong around my waist. He was as stunned by Dresden and Mr. Evans alien reveal as the rest of the group. His thoughts were not clear to me, most likely because they were not clear to himself, but I could only presume that his father unclothing his human skin was not a common Friday evening activity in the Evans' household.

The survival instinct had most likely clawed its way through the initial shock and awoken Maria to the surreality of this situation. It's one thing to _talk_ about aliens, another thing altogether to sit face to face with them, looking very different from humans.

Maybe it was my usual urge to make sure that everyone else's needs were met before my own that held my own panic back in favor of making sure that Maria was okay. Because even though I had been in this world a lot longer than Maria and had _experienced_ a lot more, it was not a walk in the park or a shrug of the shoulders to be in the same room as real life aliens actually looking like aliens.

That aforementioned perk of my personality kicked in full force when Maria scrambled to her feet, her eyes widened in terror, her movements unfocused and panicked in their incoordination. Raw wild fear shone in her eyes as Michael moved his hand to her arm, either to stop her or help her, I'm not sure.

Through terrified tears, she hissed, her voice breaking in several places, "Don't touch me."

"Hey," Michael replied, the regular roughness of his voice markedly softened, "I don't look like that."

Max's hands fell away from my hips as I got to my feet.

Her sob - which crackled over her lips like a painful strike of lightning - ignited every protective instinct in my body, and before Maria's opened mouth had managed to form words, I had wrapped my fingers tightly around Michael's thick bicep and sharply pulled him backwards. Away from Maria.

I briefly met his eyes - surprised, maybe at my strength? - before I moved between him and Maria and gently took Maria's hand.

Her hand was damp with sweat and it was trembling so badly that I could feel the vibrations up my underarm. It made me tighten my hold while I searched out her frantic eyes. Her body was already moving, pulling towards the door.

Escape.

"Ria?" I prompted.

Tears ran down her blotchy cheeks while her eyes met mine and her voice hissed in a loud whisper, "They're _not human_ , Lizzie."

I frowned, then nodded. "Yes. I know, babe."

She was pulling on our joined hands, her eyes jumping erratically around the room. "Maybe they will let us leave."

I stared at her. Speechless. She was acting paranoid. Mad, even. Maybe she was losing it. Maybe this was too much for her. Her fear dug deep into the very core of my heart and I felt it start to freeze me.

What if she had gone insane? How would we protect her then?

Her gaze never stopped for more than one second on the same spot. Constantly traveling. Constantly checking. "Maybe," she breathed loudly. "Maybe it's not too late to leave." Her eyes dropped to my face and transfixed I watched the small twitches in the corners of her red-brimmed eyes as she continued, "They might let us leave, right?"

The horrible wet desperation in her voice was heavily emphasized by her free hand tightly encircling my upper arm. So tight that it hurt.

Her eyes were the size of dining plates and I had never seen such naked primitive fear. She was fearing for her life.

I tried to find my voice through swallowing. "Let's go someplace to talk, okay? Some privacy. Alright?"

I heard Michael start to protest behind me, probably wanting to inform me of how that wasn't safe, but I turned to look at him long enough to make him grow quiet.

I have no idea how I looked like or what my eyes were telling him, but it didn't matter. As long as it worked.

I was aware of Max getting to his feet a short distance behind me. I could see Maria's frightened large eyes not letting go of him moving behind my back for a second, while I tried to direct us up to the door.

 _I'm gonna be here,_ Max informed me. _On the other side of the door._

The coldness in my heart, brought about by Maria's fear, drowned in the love from Max, and I gave him a small grateful smile over my shoulder, letting myself get lost in his eyes for a second too long to gather some strength, before I guided Maria through the door and out the room.

Before the door closed behind us, I heard Dresden announce to the remaining members of the seated circle, "Enough Show and Tell for today. Let's get some sleep," and, "Michael, let Max handle this."

Then I was alone with Maria. While turning away from the door to face her, I was just about to open my mouth to speak with her, to ask if she was okay, how she was handling it all. But she beat me to it.

Her damp palms pressed up against my cheeks, cradling my face in her trembling frantic grip, while her stiff fingers dug into the flustered softness of my cheeks like claws. Upon finding her agitated face within inches of my own, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against my skin, I blinked in startled surprise.

"We have to find a way out," she emphasized, small droplets of saliva landing on my face from how hard she was pressing the words out through her teeth.

"Maria, please-" I started, but my attempt at pleading with her only had her forcefully shake her head from side to side.

"No. They've got you under a spell. Max-, " she cut herself off, let my eyes momentarily go while she moved paranoid eyes in the direction of the door next to us before panning her eyes back to me and whispering in a loud hiss, "Max has done something to you."

When I opened my mouth to protest, her fingers sunk deeper into my cheeks. Painfully so. In response, I wrapped my hands around her wrist, attempting to urge her hands away.

Even though it took a monumental effort to pry her hands away, there was zero awareness of this fact on her face. Instead, she kept talking in that heightened conspiratorial voice of hers, "They are not human, Lizzie. You saw them too, right? You must have seen them! They are giants! They could crush us. They're purple. And blue! They didn't have noses and you could- could see their brains. They are not-" she gasped, as if her own words was making it seem more real to her, "They are not human."

I took a hold of her hands down by our waists and held them tightly to signal how much I was on her side.

"I know, Ria," I tried, keeping my voice as calm as I could. "But-"

Her face moved closer again, her green eyes filling my vision. "We have to get out of here!"

Frustration at her possible impending mental breakdown made impatience shoot through me and I was unable to hide it from tainting my voice. While pressing her hands for emphasis, I told her as calmly as I could, "Didn't you hear them? We're probably safest here-"

Maria frowned, her face quickly moving from shocked surprise, to disbelief, before ending up in something akin to disgusted betrayal.

With a sharp tug she freed her hands from my grip, took a step back, and her body stiffened into distant consternation. It was an appearance of disapproval that I had seen in her before. Usually when I had refused to come along to parties and other social events. It might not be a look I felt happy with, but at least I recognized it more than the paranoid frightened girl that had been here just seconds ago.

"Didn't _you_ hear them?!" she demanded, looking angry and, surprisingly, insulted. Before I could answer her rhetorical question, she continued, "They want to _use_ you and your love for Max to solve _their_ problems. They have even made up this whole fucking story about how you have a piece of their DNA, so that they can convince you to fight for their cause. Something that is surely gonna kill you. And- and I have no idea why, but they need you for some reason."

Deep disappointment crept into every trusting cell of my body while she spoke. It was one thing that she didn't quite believe them. But it was a whole other thing that she still didn't believe _me_. Whether Maria intended for it or not, it downgraded my horrible last couple of weeks into nothing. Like they didn't matter.

It made me snap. Made me grab a hold of those thin upper arms, vaguely notice the shadow of astonishment sweep across her features, and give her upper body a sharp shake.

"Calm. Down. Now."

I wasn't screaming. I was just stating. But apparently the statement was successful enough, considering that her slack mouth made no attempt at interrupting or protesting.

"Now you listen," I continued in that same tone of voice.

I hadn't expected her to give her assent, but she mutely nodded nonetheless.

"This is a fucked up situation, okay? I get that. I'm living it too, you know. I've been living this crap for the past few weeks."

I was aware of Max's presence on the other side of the door. Of his unwavering support through the connection. It strengthened my resolution to work this out with Maria.

"And I don't fully trust those aliens either. But we have _no choice_." I gave her body another hard shake. "There are aliens - more of those multicolored giants - out there," I pointed in no general direction to signal 'out there', and continued, "and they're out for our scalps. Or worse; to use us. Make us into their brainless puppets. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have your will taken from you? To be semi-aware of that you are being controlled but not be able to do anything? To make you hurt someone you don't want to hurt? To make you kiss someone you don't want to? To make you do worse things than that?"

Her large wide eyes blinked slowly once in a silent response.

"Trust me, if choosing between that and this, there's no question what to pick. Those in that room might be aliens and hybrids, but in some backward way of thinking they are actually protecting us." I inhaled, having forgotten to breathe. "And, maybe their intentions are partly - or even mostly - selfish, but at least those intentions indirectly protects us."

A reaction of life sparked in Maria, like pressing the on-button on a talking doll. With a sudden jerk, she opened her mouth to say, "I don't think you realize that they are _aliens_ , Lizzie. As in _not from this planet._ How do we know anything about their freaking moral code? They might be tricking your ass off. They might be manipulating you right now. Just like that Tess girl. How do you know who is telling the truth?"

There was a pause of silence, before I said, "I just know. There's a lot of gut feeling involved here."

Calmness draped itself over Maria, making her look very close to the calmly collected version of Maria, my best friend. "It's because of Max, isn't it?"

Her assumption ignited my anger. Again, she was making it trivial. My voice was hard as I almost sneered, "This is a lot bigger and a lot more serious than love."

She frowned, undeterred by my tone. "Is it, though? To sum it all up, that's all they were talking about in there. How your love is meant to save their race."

She had a point. It irritated me even more that she did.

Grumpily, I admitted, "Sure, but there's still more to it than that."

Her tears had dried on her cheeks. The shock had obviously left her and her fear had either disappeared or been pushed away in favor of convincing me in a more calm manner to leave.

Thus, her voice was calm and collected as she questioned, "Is it serious? Between you and Max?"

I hesitated. Not because of the (obvious) answer to that question, but rather because I felt like I needed a second or two to correctly formulate a description.

"We are forever," I said. Simply and without a doubt.

She was watching me closely. In that honest and curious way. I was hit with the feeling that her question might have been a decisive factor in this discussion.

"And you are sure of this?" she pressed.

"Yes," I responded as clearly as if I had answered 'I do' in church.

"And because of that, you're certain that this is a battle you need to be a part of?"

"Yes," I said again, but lacking some of that previous certainty.

Her scrutinizing gaze kept tracing my facial features, while the seconds slowly ticked by.

I was starting to doubt that she was able to reach a conclusion on this, which had me - again - point out, "This is the safest place for us to be right now."

She looked at me silently for a couple of seconds more, before she took a step forward and closed the distance between our bodies. Leaning in, she brought her lips close to my right ear and whispered, "I don't trust them. They're not from this planet. They have an agenda and they can _choose_ what they want to tell us." Her hands clasped around the top of my shoulders. "I have no idea what their race is like. Are they honest or a bunch of liars? Fair or deceitful? Good or evil?"

I trembled as she voiced my own concerns. She had the liberty to articulate them, while I felt bound to Max and thus somewhat forced to trust the people around him to be able to support Max.

"Maybe by engaging in this battle, we'll be helping them take down the whole of humanity."

A snort of incredulity escaped me at this, but simultaneously I knew that she had a point.

How did we know that Dresden and his 'followers' weren't trying to do the same thing as Command and his gang, just using other slogans and methods?

"But if you believe that we are safe here - safer than out there - I'll stay with you. Mostly because I don't want you to be alone with all those creatures."

"Maria, I-" I started in a grateful mumble, but Maria's hands tightened around my bony shoulders and she cut me off.

"But I will not engage in any alien battle. That's their mess. And I won't act nice and put on a polite face. I don't owe these people anything. I'm only here to keep you company."

It almost sounded innocent when she said it like that. It made my arms move around her shoulders and crush her in an awkward hug.

Maria. My feisty, strong-willed best friend. Who, obviously, could move from a state of panic to reasonable calmness with a couple of words. I'm not sure what made her change her mind or what brought her out of that previous frantic mindset, but I was happy that she had been willing to cooperate.

At the same time, I couldn't help but wonder if she had said all those things just to please me while she was secretly planning to escape.

Which probably would set her up for a one-way trip to the enemy. Something she might not survive.

The thought chilled me and I pulled back, looking her firmly in the eyes. "Promise me something."

"Maybe," she said, tightening her lips in an attempted smile. It failed.

"That you won't try to escape. That we stick together."

She looked unhappy. Bordering on angry. And I knew that I had hit the spot. She had been planning a decampment as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

"Ria?" I prompted, quiet desperation in my request.

She sighed. Loudly. Very much like Michael, I realized, slightly amused in the midst of my concern.

"Fine."

I relaxed, relieved. I trusted her promise. She always kept her word.

So I smiled. A genuine smile. "Thank you."


	103. ONE ZERO THREE

_Supernaturalfan17980 - Thank you for the feedback!_

* * *

 **ONE ZERO THREE**

We always had to be at least two. No humans were allowed to be on their own. In other words; Humans always had to be in the company of an alien.

This didn't alter my situation much, considering that I was always in the vicinity of Max anyway. Hence, only Maria reacted - with a disapproving frown - when Max followed me to the bathroom just after I'd had that talk with Maria about her not trusting those aliens as far as she could throw them (which wasn't very far, probably).

Jokingly - with Maria's eyes watching us - I had told Max that I was not far enough into our relationship for him to see me pee, but when he had informed me - with a cheeky grin nonetheless - that it was either him or Isabel, I quickly settled for him.

The bathroom was bare. The walls were yellow, painted directly on concrete. The light was a naked bulb, dangling from a dirtied, formerly-white cord, covered in dusty spider webs. That single light source didn't distribute evenly throughout the rather large room, barely making it into the corners and cloaking them in shadows.

Sitting there on that old porcelain toilet seat, while trying not to think of when that toilet had been last cleaned, I was glad that Max was there with me. It meant that it took five minutes longer for me to pee (I'm not good with public urination), but at least I wasn't alone in the bathroom that felt like it was taken straight out of a horror movie.

Max gave me as much privacy as he could. He had his back turned towards me the whole time, walking along the uneven walls, looking at them as if he was in an art gallery perusing expensive paintings.

I watched the broadness of his back. Watched the impressiveness of his proud stature. Watch the darkness of his hair, the strong lines of his neck. My gaze traveled down his bottom, down his jeans clad legs.

"You're making it difficult for me to remain interested in this wall," Max mumbled under his breath, his voice husky and strained.

Heat instantly crept into my cheeks and an embarrassed smile grazed my lips.

"Sorry," I mumbled, turned towards the dusty toilet roll, banged it against the side of the toilet a couple of times, creating a small cloud of dust, before tearing off a piece.

Pulling my pants up while standing, I felt Max's eyes on me when I hit the small lever on the side of the toilet tank, hoping that it would actually flush. It sounded like the water jets of a budget jacuzzi, but flush it did.

I glanced at Max, a self-conscious smile on my lips, and forced myself not to get lost in his eyes. Rather I focused on getting to the sink to wash my hands. It was aluminum. Industrial. Like the type of sink you might find in the furthest back corner of a car workshop, covered in old layers of oil stains and grease.

The water was freezing cold, but it felt nice to wash my hands. While I moved them in and out of the stream (if I held them there for too long my fingers would surely freeze and fall off), Max's arms snaked around my waist, his body pressing up against my back.

With a comfortable sigh, I melted back into his chest, closing my eyes as his chin touched the curve of my neck for a second before he placed a gentle kiss against the center of that arch.

"I miss you," I whispered. The unique scent of Max enveloped me and I relaxed. My breathing slowed, my shoulders slumped with the absence of tension and my head felt lighter.

"I miss you too," he whispered back, his dark voice causing delicious vibrations across my skin.

My hands were cold and dripping with water when I turned off the faucet and placed them on top of his hands around my waist. "It feels like we haven't been alone in ages."

He sighed, the sound steaming with frustration and longing. "It _has been_ ages."

Well, not really. We were only talking about days. But so much had happened that it easily felt like an eternity since I had felt his skin against mine in a private setting.

It was not just my body that longed for him, it was my entire soul. It was almost frightening how quickly I felt disconnected from him when we hadn't had any 'us-time'. Even with the ever present connection blaring between us.

Since I had never really been in love before Max, it was difficult for me to discern if the constant pull I felt in my stomach and the feeling of suction I felt in my chest when he was standing more than two feet away from me, could be contributed to being in love or if it was the connection working.

Either way, it made me ache for him in almost inhuman proportions. Even though he'd barely left my side since we got to our most recent accommodations.

"I wish there was a way for us to be alone," Max said softly and placed a string of slow open-mouthed kisses along the arch of my neck.

That simple act immediately ignited me, sending thrills of heat into every layer of my skin. A moan floated across my slightly parted lips when he moved one of his hands off my waist to curl his finger around the collar of my shirt and start stretching it down my shoulder to grant his lips access to more skin.

I pressed further back into his body and automatically angled my head to welcome his ministrations, while I guided his hands down over my lower abdomen, brushing alongside the top border of my pants, before moving our hands upwards again, bundling up my shirt over our hands and underarms while the warmth of his palms brushed up the skin of my gradually exposing abdomen.

He gently but firmly took control of his hands after that, moving them over the roundness of my breasts on the outside of the sport bra I was wearing. I had stopped wearing regular bras lately. You don't go on the run from aliens in a lacy underwire bra. End of discussion.

My back arched, pressing my chest upwards into his touch, and while he moved to kiss alongside the angle of my jaw, I reached behind me, reaching around the sides of his upper body and tucked my hands underneath his sweater.

Calm satisfaction made me sigh in relish at the solidity of the muscles framing the sides of his abdomen. Feeling the warmth of his skin and the softness mixed with the hard had my heart skip a beat and my breath catch.

He pushed his hands down the inside of my bra from the top to capture my breasts in his palms, which didn't exactly help with my breathing. His own breaths were loud against my ear, the combination of his obvious need for me - his fingers slowly moving over my nipples, my hands grabbing the sides of his stomach hard - had tingles explode all over my body. Made my knees turn to useless mush.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath hot against the shell of my ear.

I shivered with pleasure.

"I love you too," I echoed, moving my hands as far up his body as the physical restriction of my shoulders would allow.

It proved to not be far enough and I groaned in frustration.

"What?" he mumbled, sounding distracted, and in the next breath he murmured, "God, I love your breasts."

But I wanted more. _Needed_ more.

"No," I said shortly, dropping my hands from his body and trying to get out of his hold.

"No?"

I could hear the confusion, and also hurt, in his voice, before he read the needs in my mind. With a squeeze to my breasts, he let them go, removed his hands from underneath my bra and shirt, and enabled me to turn around.

I had a very clear plan of attacking him, kissing him senseless, as I turned around. But the dark desire I saw in his eyes when faced with him stopped my world, trapped the air in my lungs, made my jaw go slack and fiery hunger shoot straight down the center of my body.

"Hi," he said quietly, his voice low and dark, the look in those almost black eyes filled with so much more than just lust. It was hunger, longing, love.

The world disappeared around us and I whispered breathlessly, "Hi."

My body felt like it was on fire and I tensed in anticipation when he took a hold of the bottom of my shirt and started to slowly pull it upwards. Whenever the pads of his fingers would come into light contact with my skin it felt like I was jolted with a short burst of electricity.

The breaths I managed to take were almost painful - warm and heavy - and I kept the breath in when his thumbs deliberately stroked across the sides of my bra-covered and highly sensitized breasts. I held that burning breath when his fingers ghosted across the underside of my arms when he made them lift over my head by pulling the shirt up along my arms. The breath tumbled out of me in a sharp blow when he dropped the shirt behind me and - without a second to spare - captured my hands and ran his hands slowly down the length of my up-stretched arms.

He never looked away, barely blinked, and his slightly parted lips had hot breaths float from his mouth to mine. He was so close.

I trembled.

His hands traveled down the sensitive sides of my ribcage, moving underneath the sport bra, taking a firm hold of the elastic hem at the base and pulling it up over the curves of my breasts.

I had not fully lowered my arms yet, but I lifted them now yet again, to assist him in removing the bra.

Instead of removing the bra completely, his lips closed around my left nipple and I gasped in surprise, my knees almost giving away there. The firm elastic was tight over the top of my breasts and in sharp contrast with the softness of his hand underneath the weight of my breast, while his lips and tongue kept swirling around my enticed nipple.

My lifted arms fell to the top of his head without grace and with a quiet moan that sounded something like, "Max", I burrowed my fingers into his thick hair and grabbed a handful while my head dropped backwards.

"I love your breasts," Max mumbled, repeating his previous statement, the ripples of his voice doing wonderful things to my nipple, making me almost cry out in pleasure.

Stopping the loud cry of pleasure (which the semi-awake rational side of my brain was responsible for) instead forced me to press my thighs tightly together.

At the back of my head I could feel the connection coming to life. His strong emotions were rolling into me like a bulldozer, fully entrapping us in our own world where only _we_ existed. I could feel how much my own emotions, my desire, was affecting him.

With the heightened connection, Max released my breast and removed my bra in one swift movement. I barely had time to gasp.

The next fractured second after that, he had pulled his own shirt over his head and had crashed our overheated bodies together. My whole body sighed in relief at the feel of so much of his skin against so much of my skin.

Max put his hand against my cheek, making me pause. Everything slowed down around us except for our hearts and breaths. In the meager lighting I could see the flush of heat on his cheeks and the small ring of golden brown made by his irises around dilated pupils.

The inside of his thumb brushed in a slow curve over my own flushed cheek and the look in his eyes was nothing but naked and true.

"We are going to get through this." His words were slow and determined.

Reality brushed against my state of desire like small droplets of ice cold water being thrown down my back.

He leaned in and slowly kissed my lips and they were so soft against mine, while the unshaved stubble around his mouth rasped minutely against the softness of my face.

Pulling back, the pads of his fingers pressed a bit tighter against my cheek and he repeated, "We are going to get through this. Okay?"

I read his eyes. Searched his mind. Experienced his emotions. And then I nodded.

"Because we are just getting started," Max continued, his voice lowering, becoming softer as he leaned his forehead against mine. "This can't all end before we even had a chance."

A lonesome tear tumbled down my cheek. It was true. It would be like a repeat of that damn Romeo and Juliet tale. Once they fell in love, everything fell apart, and then they died.

"We're gonna get through this," I said, reiterating his words with slightly less determination and a bit more shakiness.

He pulled back and merged our lips together again. His kiss turned deeper and I met his every move, danced every dance, because he was my everything. And I was his.

His hands were everywhere, skimming across my skin wherever it was exposed, floating over my nipples, pressing into my warm cheeks, burrowing into my hair. His lips adored mine, touching, pulling, suckling and his tongue intermittently brushed against mine, sending jolts of strong desire into me.

The heat of his body was very present as he eventually wrapped his stable arms around my naked waist, pressing his underarms up against my thin back, effectively enfolding me in his cocoon.

Still, I needed to get closer. With the old light bulb flickering, causing an eerie atmosphere in the room completely unnoticed by us, I tried to crawl closer, pushing my hands and arms underneath his sweater and pressing my fingers into the muscles of his back while we continued kissing.

A sharp and horribly loud knock made us freeze. Max tensed into stone while his head twisted quickly towards the door.

The light blinked sporadically.

Our breaths were loud and I was made aware of the chill in the air.

"Whatever you're doing," Michael's voice barked from the other side of the door, making thick coldness run through the previous heat of my body, "Stop it right now! We really don't want to have a blackout down here because you can't keep your hands off each other!"

My eyes flickered to the blinking light bulb, heat rising in my cheek, before I looked back at Max and met his eyes.

The light blinked one final time before it became steady and shone without interruptions.

Max looked apologetic, but also amused. And a little bit angry and frustrated. The mixed expression had me smile knowingly at him.

The knock again. Harsh and impatient. "You hear me?!"

"Yes, Michael," Max boomed, turning my smile wider as Max simultaneously rolled his eyes. "Now leave us the fuck alone!"

"If you destroy all the bulbs, I'll force you to use your energy to light up every room all the time," Michael threatened, which caused Max to sigh loudly. But probably not loud enough to be heard through the door.

"Fuck off, Michael!"

There was no more words from Michael after that. We could hear his loud footsteps as he walked away while we kept looking at each other.

Max ghosted his fingers across my cheek and placed a soft kiss on my forehead, before he pulled back and looked me deeply in the eyes. "We have _a lot_ of time to catch up on once we're through with this."

My heart warmed and the warmth bloomed in my smile. "You promise?"

He huffed, "Hell yes," and lightly touched my lips with his in a soft kiss, "I'm locking us up in a house somewhere for at least a month, where we can be alone. We deserve that."

My smile cooled, turned more contemplative. It was not that the idea of being alone with Max for a month was a downer, rather that it made me realize everything we would have to go through to reach that point. Right now, that wonderful alone time with Max seemed inhumanly far away. Almost impossible. It was so far away that I had trouble imagining it.

"We really do," I whispered wistfully, trying to ignore where my thoughts were going. "We really do deserve that."

He searched my eyes, his thumb slowly brushing over my cheek. I was extremely aware of his body pressing up against mine and of my unclad state. I wanted to remain in his arms forever. Quite literally.

"We _will_ get there," Max said quietly, but firmly.

I nodded, unable to speak around the lump in my throat.

Only a week to go now. That was the time frame Dresden had given us. The time we had to practice our connection. The time we had to make sure we were prepared enough to avoid getting killed.

But it could also be sooner, according to Dresden. Any day now, the opposition could find us and bring the war here. With that option in mind, I was grateful we had a week.

7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds.

604,799.

604,798.

Max took a step back.

604,797.

His hand left my cheek and he bent down to retrieve my shirt off the floor. In silence, he helped me get dressed before he took my hand and lead me towards the door.

604,657.


	104. ONE ZERO FOUR

**ONE ZERO FOUR**

During those days that followed, Max and I didn't get much privacy. We snuck off to the bathroom occasionally, just to be able to be alone. To hold each other without observing eyes watching. They tried to be subtle about it, but I knew that they were watching. Probably not to observe our romance, but rather to observe our connection and its progress.

I guess it was only natural (if one could call it that) for the aliens to be watching how we were doing. The success of the connection was in their interest, after all.

But Maria was also watching. So were my father and Diane.

We had become the involuntary celebrities of the group, without any means of escaping our 'fans'.

However, we had quickly realized that having physical closeness was very important to not only stabilize the connection, but also to re-energized it. Which was necessary in order to strengthen it. Max had discussed this 'aspect' with Dresden, but Dresden had thought the disadvantages of having us in a separate room - alone - greatly outweighed the benefits of us 're-energizing', as Max had called it in that discussion.

I'm not sure I would have been able to be intimate with Max to that final degree knowing that not only my best friend but also my father and my boyfriend's father were close by. Especially with them knowing what Max and I might be up to in our private room.

But we didn't necessarily have to do the deed, we just needed the physical contact without clothing. To hold each other and melt into the other's warmth.

So far, it had worked with our shared bathroom visits. We had undressed as much as possible - considering that it was not the cleanest room - and held each other for great lengths of time (before someone came knocking). We would always be standing. Of course. No way I was laying down on that dirty bathroom floor basically naked.

To be honest, _holding_ each other was all I had the energy for those days concerning intimacy.

We trained. A lot. Not just physically (Michael was in charge of that, need I say more?), but also mentally. Max was trying to teach me how to best utilize his abilities through the connection. There was no way he could know how to do this, but he somehow figured it out. I was more than a little impressed with him.

Max was exhausted too. He kept a strict workout regime, plus trying to teach me, and in addition worrying about me when I tired myself out. When the others took breaks, Max and I worked mentally, making up small mental abbreviations so that we could communicate quickly without having to form complete thoughts. He also taught me some alien vocabulary, to lessen my disadvantage were I to end up in enemy hands.

Every evening when I went to bed, I was asleep by the time my head hit the thin cheap pillow. Every morning when Dresden woke us up, it felt as if someone had hit me in the face with a sledgehammer. I was so tired during those first 30 minutes of the morning that the room was spinning and nausea pressed up my throat. It usually calmed itself down the more the day progressed.

If it wasn't for Max and the free entertainment of watching Michael interact with Maria, I might have just given up. No one should have to prepare for a war - an alien war - in a week.

But that's all we had.

Dresden got reports every day of people - _our people_ , apparently - being killed. The rebellion had some successes in killing members of the opposition, but it actually sounded as if we were losing. Already. The purists were ruthless and obeyed no rules. In the absence of morality and empathy, they killed rebels - in their minds, _traitors_ \- like flies. They were killing their ex-neighbor, their work colleague, their cousin, their friend. It didn't seem to matter. If they had crossed over to the rebels' side, they were traitors and deserved no trial or retribution.

In the fight of good versus evil, evil had a tendency to win because of their lack of mercy.

With every passing hour, it was getting more and more glaringly obvious that it might all come down to Max and I. To our bond.

There was no time to waste. Our survival - and possibly the future good of the human race - was dependent upon if I used those five minutes to learn how to light a candle with my mind or to take a break. It was an enormous responsibility to carry.

My father was an incredible rock of support. He was there giving me water and snacks (I have no idea where he got them from), like the supporting family member standing on the sides of the road of a marathon competition.

Diane was wonderful. She supplied hugs when I didn't even know I needed them. She saw to it that I sat down occasionally and, most importantly, looked after her son when I didn't have the time to.

Then there was Maria. Maria who had only stuck around to protect me and to make sure I wasn't being harmed at the hands of those otherworldly individuals. In order to protect not only herself but also me and my father, she had gotten into her head that she was going to get as much training as possible.

Michael actually hadn't protested against this, which I had thought he would, but instead surprised me by volunteering to be her instructor. Not surprisingly, this had been met with wild protests from Maria. Eventually, it had lead to Alex helping Maria out instead, something that Michael was very unhappy with (and he let us all know this, several times, each day), because - as he constantly pointed out in a not so gentle way - Alex's fighting skills were on a 'kindergarten level' and he was not 'man enough to teach a human'.

When Michael finally went too much over the line, Maria and I defended Alex before Alex had a chance to. Maria gave Michael a tongue lashing that had us all pale in mortification while I gave him a jolt of energy, curtesy of the connection.

This didn't exactly improve Michael's general mood, but at least he refrained from being condescending towards Alex from that day on.

To be honest, Alex was a really good teacher. I loved him even more for showing Maria the ropes. She didn't have any powers and wasn't able to borrow any (like I could), but she still fought with every bone and muscle in her body. She had bruises from head to toe. She was sweating and swearing, screaming and crying. But I could see her getting stronger. Both mentally and physically.

Because she was also laughing and goofing around. She was hugging me and Alex, and joking with my father.

I was really happy that she was there. She represented nostalgic safety to me. She was (except for my father, of course) the one person that had been with me through most of my life. It was amazing to see that she was proving to not only be a great friend that I could have girly moments with, but also someone I could trust with my life.

I guess these kind of life-altering situations in the end revealed people's true personality. I have to admit that I always assumed Maria to be the one to freak out if put under too much pressure, but I was more than willing to admit that that wasn't the case. She had been stable, supportive and caring during the aftermath of the death of my mother, in almost limitless proportions. And she was displaying those same qualities now. Even though she was probably really scared.

Who wouldn't be?

At least I had been around these aliens for a while now and was starting to not only accept them but also trust them. Maria didn't have that yet. And she was about to go to war with them.

Or not.

Actually, that was just about the only thing Michael and I had ever agreed upon. Maria should not engage in the battle that was ahead. She should be hidden away. But she would be trained nonetheless, because one never knew what would happen.

Maria didn't approve. With that lioness heart, she was gearing up to hurt anyone that tried to hurt her family: my father, her mother, and me.

Michael and Maria engaged in endless conversations about this. Well, maybe I shouldn't call it _conversations_. They were rather loud and frustrated discussions, _arguments_ even.

I tried not to focus too much on the seriousness of what they were actually 'discussing', instead letting myself be entertained by the verbal battle between them. Maria seemed to have lost every ounce of fear she might have ever felt towards Michael. Instead she reprimanded, scolded, and yelled at him for everything between heaven and earth.

One might think they were an old married couple judging by how their discussions played out.

I couldn't tell if Michael found it amusing or if he was a nanosecond away from wringing Maria's neck. But I guess that was part of why it was admittedly amusing to listen to them.

But as fun as it was to let yourself be entertained by Maria and Michael, our days of training were wearing us out. With the end of the week getting closer, I felt increasingly fatigued. Beyond exhausted.

Still, here I was, in one of the larger underground rooms, practicing energy blasts, protective fields and mental diversion techniques.

Max grabbed my arm as I swayed. My surroundings were spinning, my balance was off, my chest hurt with my every strained breath, the tips of my fingers were cold and tingling with impending numbness, and I felt the nausea at the top of my throat.

"Hey," he called sharply, his fingers tightening around my arm, and I swallowed back the nausea.

"Liz?" His voice softer now, but still loud and clear enough to get through the veil of fatigue around my head.

When I didn't answer, he pulled me into his body, wrapping his arms around me in a - not too tight - hug. Giving me the chance to breathe while I felt his heart pound harshly against the inside of his ribcage.

I swallowed hard once more to combat the rising nausea and squeezed my eyes closed to lessen the sensation of spinning. It didn't help much. Pressing my nose and lips into the warm side of his throat, I tried to get my hands to cooperate and return his hug, but all my energy went into trying to remain on my feet. I wasn't even doing a particularly good job at that, Max's arms around my upper body basically holding me up.

I heard the acute worry in Maria's voice along with her quick approaching steps. Steps that screamed fear and concern, which resonated with the tone in her voice, "What's wrong with her?"

I could feel Max's heart constrict with anxiety. I knew the sensation came from him, because I myself felt nothing but overwhelming weariness, imbalance and nausea at the moment.

"She's tired," Max replied, but I felt the small tremble of insecure fear in the vibrations of his vocal cords relayed to the skin of his throat.

I was worried too. I wasn't sure what was happening to me. No one knew, I guess. No one had ever exposed a human being to this kind of (alien) training before.

"She can barely stand," Maria said accusingly.

I tried to summon my strength to pull away from Max and prove to Maria that I was fine. But I couldn't move. Rather I slumped further in Max's arms.

"We still have three hours to go," Michael announced from somewhere to my side and his announcement made me want to cry with hopelessness.

Three hours?! I couldn't train for another three hours. I was done. Well done.

"She needs rest, Michael," Max bit out, in that tone that he usually reserved for Michael. "She's out of energy."

"She can rest when she's dead," Michael said and the nausea bubbled further up my throat.

His callous words made me feel sick in more ways than one.

Max's arms unconsciously tightened around my body and I felt him move us an inch or so to the left. Considering the furious protectiveness that exploded through the connection, I could only assume that he was moving me to protect me from Michael. Michael truly was the only one in our group that Max still reacted defensively towards. Especially when it came to me. As if he still wasn't sure Michael wouldn't up and hurt me one day.

"If she doesn't rest she'll be dead long before she has a chance to save your ugly ass," Max spat venomously.

His words echoed in my head and had cold sweat break out on my palms, on the back of my neck, and on my forehead.

Did he really mean that? Would I die if I didn't rest?

 _You need to rest, Lizzie_ , he told me without truly answering my question.

Michael's snort was partly drowned by Max's telepathic reply, but it didn't hide his next words, "'Save me'? Please. She's a human." His tone was more than a little sarcastic. "She might be a little stronger because of your _beautiful_ connection," I cringed at the acid in his voice, "but she's still weak and vulnerable. You are going to be spending most of the time protecting her instead of helping to win the war, Maxwell. Mark my words. She's gonna ruin it for us. She already has your mind all twisted. You can't walk two feet without wondering where she is. And all that disgusting worry about her fucking well-being-"

Max's body was tense. His breath was still and paused. But an inferno was building in the core of his body. If he hadn't been supporting my weak body at that moment, his hands would have been around Michael's neck.

"Shut the fuck up!"

I jumped at the screamed order, mostly because it was a female voice, not Max's.

I really wanted to turn my head, to open my eyes, and observe what was happening around me. Instead a heard the soft, but sharp, sound of flesh connecting with flesh and then...nothing.

The silence was horrible.

I heard Max's breath against my ear for the two seconds that seemed to drag on before there was a shuffle of movement and I heard Alex's voice. I couldn't make out what he was saying, because he was speaking very quietly. But the melody of his indistinct string of words was soothing and I felt myself relax.

"You better watch yourself, woman," Michael breathed then.

I had never heard him like that before. His voice was threatening while at the same time surprised. Shocked, even.

 _Maria slapped Michael,_ Max told me then, causing my eyes to spring open, disobeying the fatigue.

My fear for what position that might put Maria in was enough to get me to pull me head back from Max's shoulder and take in the scene next to me with blinking eyes.

Maria was standing about five feet from Michael, her eyes widened with something that could only be described as madness. Her cheeks were red, her mouth hanging open and her chest moving rapidly up and down with her breaths. Her hands were down by the sides of her body, tightened into fists. She looked like she wasn't finished. She wanted to give Michael a Round Two.

But Alex was behind her, gripping her wrists and holding her back tightly against his front.

I blinked, an impending headache pounding behind my eyes, and turned my head unsteadily towards Michael.

It was almost comical how much like Maria he looked with the harried expression in his eyes, the flush of anger on his cheeks and the rapid breathing being the only movement in his stiff body posture. His hands were clenching and unclenching, over and over again, along the sides of his body.

The air was thick with their anger and I found myself afraid to move, in case it would set them off. Right now, they looked like two Rottweilers, in full combat mode, staring each other down and just waiting for one of them to make a move.

"Maria," Alex cautioned quietly. "Let it go."

I looked at Maria - _everyone_ looked at Maria - and we saw her tense, jerk forward but being stopped by Alex's hold.

"He's an ass," Alex continued. "He's always been an ass."

"You're pissed off because you know I'm right," Michael said then, addressing Maria with heated eyes. Lifting his arm, he pointed at me, "You know that she's going to die out there. You know that she can't defend herself, no matter how much practice she gets."

He threw me a quick look, laughed humorlessly, before looking back at Maria. "I mean... Reality speaks for itself, doesn't it? Just look at her. After not even a week of practice, she's completely fucked. She can't even stand on her own."

Forgetting that I was leaning on him, Max took a quick step towards Michael, but quickly stopped when it had me stumbling and almost tripping on my unresponsive feet. I felt the anger vibrate through his whole being when he spat, "If you were to do what Liz has been doing these last couple of weeks, you wouldn't feel so good either. Not only are you alien and used to your abilities, but you've had _years_ to practice them."

A frustrated sigh. Max was shaking now, barely containing himself. At that point, I was glad I was leaning on him, because I didn't want him to end up in a physical confrontations with Michael. Apparently, my temporary weakness was the only thing stopping Max right now.

Amongst all the things Max wanted to say to Michael right now, he reluctantly settled for biting out, "You're a fucking asshole, you know that? You should try and pull your head out of your ass long enough to see that your selfish comments are not only hurting people but make you look stupid enough that I seriously doubt your ability to do anything right in the war."

That did it. Degrading words to his personality seemed to wash over him like nothing, but when Max started to beat down on Michael's abilities at fighting in the war, something horrid came to life in Michael's eyes.

He raised his arm so quickly that I barely had time to register his intention before he had carried through with it. As far as I was able to tell in that part of a second, Michael wasn't aiming at Max and I, rather to the side of us.

But I might have been wrong. It was not like I had a lot of time to analyze it before Max and I in unison projected energy (just like Max had trained me to do) outside of our bodies, producing the protective shimmering see-through shield around us.

The expected blast neither hit us nor the protective field.

In that short second it took for Michael to raise his arm, Alex's protective instincts (being my protector and all) kicked in and he released Maria in attempt to get to me. Maria was standing closer to Michael than Alex, having continuously been struggling to get out of Alex's hold since he had started holding her back, and she was still grappling. Hence, when he suddenly let her go, she barreled forward and slammed into Michael's arm.

I saw her shoulder collide with Michael's arm, disrupting his aim and the energy he had intended to fire in our proximity (or possibly at us) impacted with the concrete floor, creating a hole the size of a basketball.

"What the-" Michael had time to say before everything seemed to happen at once.

I saw Maria slump and Michael's arms move to catch her before she hit the floor. Even before Michael had fully caught Maria's body, Max had left my side and was quickly moving up to the pair. I swayed, taken off balance, and took an unsteady step forward in attempt to remain standing while concurrently initiating a walk towards Maria. At that point, Alex showed up next to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and halting both my walking and my swaying.

My eyes were fixed on Maria, when I protested loudly, "No," and tried to get away from Alex.

Something had happened to Maria. She was hurt somehow. Had she hurt herself when running into Michael's arm? Had some residual energy from the blast been around Michael's arm and thus hurt her?

Alex was confused and incredibly upset. His feelings were flowing off him, making me want to cry and scream in frustration as he was magnifying my own negative emotions.

My heart was pounding painfully in my chest and my eyes felt strained from staring at the scene in front of me.

Surprisingly, there was no screaming, no fighting. Max and Michael were both focused on Maria. Just like that, their argument had been pushed to the side.

Maria.

I frowned as I looked at her. She seemed okay. Maybe she had just been frightened by the blast and lost her footing...

They had helped her sit down and she was awake. But... I squinted my eyes, and managed to take a step forward even with Alex's arm around me.

Was it just the lighting or was Maria's previously yellow shirt not that yellow anymore...?

"No," I said quietly and felt strength returning to my body. "No."

Red was blooming out across her shirt, over her stomach, like some sick coloring effect.

She was bleeding.


	105. ONE ZERO FIVE

**ONE ZERO FIVE**

"She'll be okay," Alex said. But the delivery of his words was too hasty, too worried. I bet he had seen Maria's shirt by now as well.

"No," I repeated, at the lack of another word.

I saw the unshed tears glistening in Maria's eyes as she turned her gaze to meet mine. She looked regretful and ashamed. But mostly sad. She looked really sad.

I was surprised that she wasn't screaming in pain.

With the inexplicable return of my strength, I took Alex off guard and pulled out of his hold. Quickly crossing the floor, I slid to my knees in front of Maria and immediately found her hand. Her cold fingers returned my squeeze weakly and she wouldn't let go of my eyes.

"You're gonna be okay," I told her, tears muddling my voice. I told her this even when I had no idea what had just happened and how badly she was hurt. The blast - some part of it at least - must have hit her. There was no other explanation.

Max was on my right, running his hands down Maria's body. I felt the deep concentration in his mind and I knew he was getting ready to heal her. Michael was facing me with Maria's semi-reclined seated body propped up in front of him, her back to his chest.

When I was this close to them, I noticed that they weren't silent at all. Michael was talking quietly in long sequential sentences, alternating between addressing Maria and Max. It was the most I had ever heard him say.

I was surprised to hear his words. His apologies to Maria, over and over again. His soft scolding about her getting in the way and getting hurt. Him telling her that he hadn't rescued her from those assholes and brought her with him just to have her die here. Apologizing for failing in keeping her safe.

He fired off a sentence or two to Max, the pleads dripping with desperation that Max had to save Maria, that Max had to help her.

It was not just obvious that he felt numbingly guilty about what had happened, but that he might not be able to live with himself were Maria to die at his hand.

My eyes kept moving between Michael and Maria, my mouth slowly dropping open in confusion at how Michael was acting. I had never seen him so vulnerable, so caring, so human. His whole 'macho'-facade had evaporated, leaving only soft caresses of his fingers down Maria's pale cheeks and occasional fingers threading through her hair.

Something told me that Maria wasn't listening. Even with my own gaze scanning the members of the group, I felt her eyes on my face the whole time. Maria appeared detached, making me suspect that she might be in shock.

I looked back at her face and watched her eye blinks slow down, making her eyelids appear heavy. Not daring to remove my gaze from her face, I said warningly, "Max...She's-"

"I know," Max told me, his voice confident yet troubled.

He reached down and wrapped his large hand over mine and Maria's, cradling our hold in his hand. Then he pulled me into the healing process.

I recognized the pulling sensation at the center of my stomach this time, although it was far from as strong and overwhelming as when we had healed Alex. I had the feeling that Max wasn't involving me so much in the healing this time. Maybe it was because Alex's injuries had been more extensive and Max had needed more of my energy at that time. Or maybe he was afraid to pull from me when I had been so weak just minutes ago.

Max's mind was silent. He was focusing on helping Maria and wasn't engaging in my mental musings.

Instead I gasped as my inner eye caught onto Max's healing and I was shown the torn skin just above Maria's bellybutton. It looked like someone had taken a welding tool and quickly run it along her skin, grazing her. But it had been warm enough to cut through all the layers of her skin, the muscle layers and knick her spleen.

That was where all the blood was coming from. I could see it trickling out of her spleen; filling her abdomen and spilling out through the wound to drench through her clothing.

I could feel her pain throbbing around the center of my own body, but it wasn't as bad as I would expect it to be. This only reiterated what I already feared. That she was in shock.

Or maybe I couldn't feel it so well because Max wasn't actually forming a connection with Maria. From what I remembered from what Max's father had said; superficial healings demanded more technique since you didn't have the mental connection to the patient.

When Max got to work on Maria, I realized how much he had actually been training these last couple of weeks. Only in the days since we had healed Alex, Max seemed to have perfected his technique. His healing of Maria was quick and precise. It was like watching a perfectly performed dance routine. No hesitation, no delays.

It was difficult to tell how quick it had been, but it felt like 20 seconds tops before Max pulled away.

Max had healed Maria without a connection at a time when he probably should have needed a connection, considering the level of damage.

I looked over at him, feeling a deep sense of awe.

He opened his eyes and looked over at me, giving me a small smile when he felt how proud I was of him, before he looked to his 'patient'. "Maria? How are you feeling?"

His question had me look at Maria and finding her eyes still on me. Her eyes held more life and were more alert. Also, the almost perplexed paling look across her features from earlier had vanished.

I gave her a smile and squeezed her hand, observing the warmth of life creep back into her cheeks as she with confusion gave me the attempt of a smile before turning to Max.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" Max asked softly when he gained her attention.

Wordlessly, she slowly shook her head.

"Okay," Max said and gave her a gentle smile while removing his hand from Maria and my hold. Breathing a sigh of relief, he repeated, "Okay."

"Is she okay?" Michael asked Max.

Hearing his voice, Maria instantly tensed. His statement brought us all back to reality. About what he had done, what a catastrophe his actions had almost resulted in.

About the fact that he was holding her.

Panic quickly spread in those green eyes and I didn't need a connection for Max to understand that we should get Maria away from Michael.

Max and I got to our feet simultaneously, while Maria started to push away from Michael.

"Maria, please-" Michael started.

I felt the shiver move through Maria through the grip I still had on her hand, and while Max reached down to help Maria to her feet, Maria turned around and stared at Michael.

I couldn't see Maria's face, but I could see Michael.

I had never seen him that pale.

"Don't ever touch me again. Don't go anywhere near me."

"It was an accident," Michael tried, but the possibilities of what could have happened were starting to hit me too.

What if he hadn't actually been aiming next to us, but at us? What did that mean? Could we ever trust him again?

Most importantly, did it really matter? Should he be shooting at us (or in our vicinity), even if it was just as a warning, even if it was just because he couldn't control his temper? Was that the kind of person we should be around?

Which had me coldly pose the question of, "Was it an accident that you were trying to kill me and Max?"

Michael's eyes darkened. "That doesn't matt-"

Max straightened, guiding Maria towards me, further away from Michael. "Like hell it doesn't matter. You aimed at Liz and fired. That's not an accident."

I chilled. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe Michael had actually aimed _at_ us. Or _me,_ as Max was pointing out.

Michael look lost. As if he knew that he was out of his depth. As if he could feel how hated he was right now.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word falling empty and emotionless from his lips in light of the confusion he was emitting. "I wasn't even aiming at her." His voice grew stronger with every word, slowly going back to the abrasive Michael I recognized. "Why the fuck are you trying to put this on me, huh? You were the one to tick me off. I just wanted to shut you up. I was aiming for that butt ugly chair over there." His face turned increasingly harder and he almost rolled his eyes at the last part, condescension delivering his words, "Consider it part of your training. I was testing your reflexes."

Max's anger was steamrolling across my system. He was not only furious about Michael shooting so close to me or that he had done such a reckless thing just to end an argument, but for the sake of what could have happened to Maria. What _did_ happen to her.

"I always thought you were just impulsive and lacked self-control, but you're fucking dangerous," Max said darkly.

In the deep sea of all that rage, my analytic and observational capacities got working. Even with the hotness of disappointment, fear, betrayal and wrath prickling beneath my skin, I managed to take an objective step back from the emotions and see the feelings Michael was trying to hide behind his regular facade of nonchalant masculinity.

Once you saw it, it was difficult to not read him as clearly as crystal. The incident with Maria had affected him deeply. He looked shaken up and scared. He looked like a dog that you had not only scolded but also kicked, with his body hunching and his tail between his legs.

I wanted him to drop that wall. For his own sake, it was important that the rest of our group realized that he gave a damn about what had just happened. If it had just been an honest accident, a moment of him losing his temper, he had the right to be offered forgiveness.

But the nonchalant arrogant persona he was putting on right now didn't even deserve our trust.

So I attempted to hit him where it hurt. "Instead you hurt someone you care about."

Just like that, his face fell. He visibly paled. His mouth started moving in incoherent stutters while his eyes landed on Maria. "I- no- what do you- I- it was an accident- she's human- she was in the way- no- I-"

"You have feelings for her," I pointed out, my voice flat, "and now you almost killed her."

A tremble went through Maria next to me and she whispered, "No."

With bewildered confusion draped across his face, Michael took a step towards Maria. The contrite version I had just seen hinted at in his eyes was creeping forward for the rest of the group to see. His pretenses were dropping, his remorse bleeding out of him.

It was almost painful to watch and for a second I regretted that I had asked the question. But the second after that I remembered what he had done to my best friend - how she might have died had Max not been a healer - and quickly lost sympathy for him.

Michael gave a short nervous laugh and told Maria, "She's just fucking with you," before turning dark eyes on me. "Right, _Elizabeth_?"

I shrugged. "I just call it like I see it."

He narrowed his eyes at me and redness slowly flushed his face. For the briefest of moments, I wondered if he was going to blast me- well, _something_ again.

But he visibly reigned his temper in and refocused on Maria. Who looked scared on a whole new level.

Holding his hand out to her, as if he wanted to touch her but not really daring to (instead having it float in the air between them without touching her) he said quietly, "You were not supposed to be here. I don't know why you're in these practices anyway. I got you here to protect you. You're just human. You shouldn't have to be involved. You are not going into battle anyway."

This broke through Maria's lithification and she said quietly, "That's not for you to decide. I'm gonna participate."

Real anger flashed across his face, making his eyes turn black. "The hell you are, woman!"

Maria responded by crossing her arms tightly across her chest, perfectly imitating Michael's expression of anger. "Why not? Why shouldn't I be allowed to fight for my race, to help Liz out?"

Michael almost looked offended and spitted incredulously, "Because you're gonna end up dead, that's why!"

Maria flew her arms out and took two quick steps towards Michael so that her nose was just an inch from Michael. Raising to her toes, she stared him dead in the eyes and practically screamed him straight in the face. "What does it matter, huh? What does it matter if an alien I doesn't know kills me when an alien I _do_ know can just as happily kill me?" She stabbed her finger into his chest, emphasizing the movement with a sharp, "Huh?"

Michael took a hold of her upper arms and shook her once, while grinding the words out through clenched teeth, "I. Was. Not. _Happily_. Trying. To. Kill. You."

"Don't," she whispered in a tone threateningly enough to scare off the largest Grizzly bear.

I usually let Maria fight her own battles. There was no reason why not. She had always been able to handle herself. She had always stood up for herself and not let herself get run over.

But this was no regular argument. I wasn't sure where Maria stood with Michael any longer. He had just fatally injured her.

So I butted in.

Max had taught me all about air bumps. Compared to energy blasts that destroyed and burnt, air bumps were the collections of air in front of your hand and then pushed in a direction of your choice. Basically, you were playing Mother Nature, creating short powerful bursts of wind.

Which is what I decided to do now. We were practicing after all. Or had been, until Michael had turned it all into a matter of life and death.

Raising my hand, I took aim at Michael. He was so focused on Maria's face that he never noticed what I was doing until it was too late.

The surge of collected wind hit him in the side, effectively knocking him off his feet. He landed on his side on the hard floor with a heavy thump, about five feet from where he had just been standing.

Maria's wide, surprised eyes flew to me and a small tentative smile of approval grazed her lips, before she looked over at Michael.

Max had crossed his arms across his chest, looking rather pleased with my action, a crooked smug smile playing in the left corner of his mouth. "You still think Liz is weak?" Max questioned, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

I was expecting Michael to retaliate. Hell, I had even started to assimilate energy to build up the protective force field. But Michael surprised me by just slowly getting up in seated position before he raised to his knees and slowly got into standing position from there. All the while keeping his head low, in something akin to defeat and embarrassment, with his gaze to the floor. Even his act of brushing the dust off his jeans looked desolated and rejected.

I was taken aback by the guilt that hit me. Maybe I shouldn't have resorted to violence. I could have just asked him to leave Maria alone. In a way, it didn't make me any better than Michael.

 _It's not the same thing by far_ , Max told me in my head. I met his eyes and read the consolation in them. _He deserved that. He has to learn that he can't always get his way. That he can't treat you, Maria or any other human however he deems appropriate._

I looked back at Michael and how he slowly walked across the room. I saw Maria's hesitant stance out of the corner of my eye. She was as perplexed by Michael's behavior as I was.

Stopping just inside the door, Michael turned around, one hand on the door knob. His eyes went straight to Maria and his voice was the most honest and clear I had ever heard it. "I'm really sorry for what I did to you, Maria. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you."

While my mouth fell open in astonishment, Michael turned to me and without blinking or looking away held my surprised eyes and said, "And I'm sorry if I frightened you, Liz. I didn't aim for you. Your boyfriend just has a way of pissing me off."

The silence that followed his sincere apologies were deafening. Even Max was stunned by Michael's actions. Our eyes were equally wide as Michael turned around, opened the door, and disappeared through it.

I turned my head to look at Max and Alex spoke behind me, "What the hell just happened?"


	106. ONE ZERO SIX

**ONE ZERO SIX**

After that whole fiasco with Maria and Michael, Dresden had ordered us all to rest. He had been less than impressed with us, but at the same time likened the incident with a carpenter hammering a nail through his hand, rather than the wood, when too tired to concentrate.

I'm not sure if getting a nail through your hand could - or should - be paralleled to what had happened to Maria's abdomen, but I could see his point. Accidents were prone to happen when you were tired. Couple this with emotions running high and you have an explosive combination.

Dresden had also, like the good leader he was, told us to talk with each other about what had happened, because it was too dangerous to not be unified at this point in time. It was vital for our survival that we trusted each other. We couldn't have us turning on each other at a time like this.

But it didn't matter how many times Maria was told this in the hours following the accident, she was not that keen on being around Michael. Especially not talking to him.

Michael had pulled away from the rest of the group after the group meeting with Dresden. During the scolding and admonishments he had been pale and silent. No angry retorts or huffs. Not even a single annoyed glare. He had taken it all in silence, merely mumbling a silent, "I'm sorry," when Dresden after a while had sharply asked him, "Michael, are you listening to me?".

His reactions made me uneasy. That feeling was shared by the majority of the group. While Dresden was talking, informing us of the importance of staying together and trusting each other, my eyes were not the only ones that more often than not drifted towards Michael. But his eyes had been stuck to some point in the middle of the floor in front of him, his back slumped forward in a sad curve, and his semi-long brown hair obscuring large parts of his facial profile.

Either Michael felt really bad about what had happened or he was just ignoring us. But I had a strong feeling in the pit of my stomach that he felt awful about what had happened.

Dresden had rounded off the meeting by informing us - again - about the underground compound where Command and his men were, and giving us some updates on what had happened there in the last couple of hours. Dresden barely had time to say, "Okay, that's it," before Michael was on his feet and practically out the door.

No one tried to stop him. He obviously needed to be alone.

Dresden had given Michael's hasty departure a long look before he silently had approached me and told me, with deep concern in his eyes, that I - " _Especially you, Liz_ " - had to get some rest. Apparently, I didn't look well.

I didn't protest. I didn't feel well.

It was only the camp fire and the good mood missing when Maria, Alex, Max and I sat down in the far off corner of our sleeping area. Max borrowed blankets from others and made a soft bed for me. The act was so sweet that I wanted to roll my eyes at him because it felt a bit exaggerated. But I was too grateful and too exhausted. Instead I just smiled and gave him a light kiss.

Gingerly taking a seat on the makeshift bed, I felt every ache in my body now that the adrenaline of the most recent events had left me. Maria sat down next to me and with a weary smile in her direction, I laid down on my side, my head in her lap.

Max took a seat at my feet, lifting them and positioning them across his lap. Carefully, he removed my shoes and gently started rubbing my feet. Maria's fingers were in my hair and she seemed content at having me so close.

Surrounding by the people I love, my eyelids were feeling increasingly heavy. I was semi-aware of Alex sitting down in front of me, facing Max and Maria. The conversation lightly started up around me, but I was only partly conscious of it.

I knew that it concerned Michael. Max and Alex were informing the rather reluctant Maria of who Michael really was. About his parents, about his upbringing, about what social events might have contributed to the man he was now. They were trying to smooth over what had happened. Because right now - like Dresden had pointed out - was not the time to be angry with each other. Maria needed to trust Michael. Or at least not to hate him.

I was trying to concentrate on what they were saying. I was trying to listen to the comforting sound of Max's voice and the soft laughter from Alex. I was doing my best to try and make out if Maria was happy or angry. But after drifting in and out of consciousness for a couple of minutes, sleep won me over and pulled me down into a deep and dreamless slumber.

When I finally made my way back to the world of the living, I found myself lying on my stomach with blankets covering my body and Max filling my vision. He was asleep, facing me, with his arm and leg draped over my body, pinning me to him. The room was silent and dimmed, telling me that it must be in the middle of the night.

I laid there for a couple of minutes, tracing the lines of his face in the semi-darkness. He looked so relaxed and peaceful when he slept. My heart grew with love and protectiveness. He was so beautiful. Inside and out. And I loved him so much.

Eventually, I couldn't stop myself from leaning forward and brushing my lips with his. The soft sound of contentment moved between his lips and he used his hand to pull me closer.

His eyes blinked open when our noses touched and a tired smile grazed his lips. His voice broke with sleep, being darker than usual, as he whispered, "Hi."

I smiled, curling further up against his body, loving the peace and natural feeling being this close to him brought me, and whispered, "Hi."

"Did you sleep well?" he asked quietly.

I did a quick search of the state of my body, realizing that I felt pretty good. "I think so."

He smiled and kissed my lips softly. "Good."

His eyes tiredly blinked closed again, but I kept watching him. Kept thinking of how lucky I was to have him love me. Of how grateful I was to have him in my life. How much he meant to me. What a beautiful soul he was. What an amazing person he was.

Without opening his eyes, with only an amused smile spreading across his lips, he whispered, "It's in the middle of the night, beautiful. Get some more sleep."

I knew that he had heard my thoughts, but it was not like they were secret. I had no trouble letting him know exactly how I felt about him.

"How long was I asleep?" I questioned, starting a mental calculation. It had been afternoon when Maria had been hurt and the meeting had happened shortly after that. So I must have fallen asleep early in the evening. Missing supper and all.

He inched his left eye open. "More than 24 hours."

My breath stopped. Huh? Did I hear that correctly?

I cleared my throat and my voice was just above a whisper as I croaked, "What?"

He opened his other eye, let out another satisfied sigh and hugged me closer again, brushing his lips over my forehead. With my nose pressed up against the warm side of his throat, he said reassuringly, "Don't worry. I kept track on you the whole time. The rest were a bit worried when you didn't wake up, but I guess you really needed sleep."

I frowned. I hadn't misheard him then. "I missed a day?"

"You needed the sleep," he continued naturally. As if it was a very simple fact.

I pulled back slightly so that I could see his face. He blinked up at me, looking at me calmly.

"But what about the training? We only have two days left!" My voice rose slightly at the end of my observation, having Max lift his hand from the curve of my waist and drift it gently across my flushed cheek.

"Hey," he called lightly to calm me. "You obviously needed the sleep. Your brain can't learn anything new anyway when you're that exhausted."

I was getting frustrated and becoming stressed. I had missed a whole day of practice. That was too dangerous. There was still so much left for me to learn.

"Don't do that," he interrupted my frantic train of thought. "We all had a quiet day. We were trying not to disturb you too much so we cut back on the training a bit and spent the day telling stories, playing word games and being entertained by Michael and Maria."

I had listened on the verge of protesting, but at his last three words my protest flew out the window and my words stammered, "Uh, wh-what?"

He brushed his fingers slowly through my hair, tucking it behind my ear before pulling it out again and repeating the process. "We talked to Maria. Alex and I. A lot."

I felt confused. "But... After what happened... What are they doing now? Are they arguing? Playing nice? What?"

Max's voice lowered below a whisper, signaling to me that my voice was getting a bit too loud for the quiet dark room. "Michael approached Maria shortly after you fell asleep. She didn't want to talk to him at first, but after some coercion from Alex and I to just hear him out, she agreed. He didn't want to talk to her in front of us, but Maria wouldn't agree to be alone with him. He bitched about it, naturally, but must have realized that it was the only way he would be able to speak to her."

When Max grew silent, I searched his eyes, frustratedly awaiting the continuation. "And then?"

"I've never seen him like that," Max continued, dropping his eyes from mine momentarily. "He was basically begging her to trust him. He was very humble and extremely contrite about what had happened."

"What did Maria do?"

"She must have understood that he was being sincere, so she decided to offer him a second chance."

I swallowed. "So... Do _you_ think he was being sincere? Did he actually fire at us or was he just being stupid?"

"I saw what you saw," Max whispered back. His voice was calm, even though I could hear the soft tremble in it and feel the flash of anger run through his body. He might have accepted the way things had transpired, but he was still not okay with how Michael had reacted.

It had been thoughtless and dangerous. Not something you would expect from a man trained for battle.

"He wasn't aiming for us," Max continued. "He was doing something similar to someone slamming their fist in the wall instead of ramming it into someone's face."

"Still, it was dangerous," I pointed out.

Max nodded, trailed his hand down my arm and interlaced our fingers. "Yes. But for once," he snorted and shook his head in disbelief, "it seems as if he has finally understood what he did was wrong. That's big for Michael."

I bit my bottom lip, my thoughts milling around my head. "Is it because of Maria?"

His eyes were on my lips and he slowly licked his own in contemplation, before looking into my eyes. His cursory look at my lips had heat course through me.

"I never thought I would actually see the day," he mused slowly and lowered his voice further, moving closer as he did so, to basically whisper it directly into my ear. I shivered with pleasure at the feel of his breath against my skin. "But I think Michael has a crush on a human being."

 _I think so too_ , I responded mentally.

He pulled back, letting out a slow breath and searched my face with his dark eyes. My face heated at the look in his eyes: the concern and the love.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

I attempted a smile for him. "Better."

His expression turned worried. "How about what we are going up against soon?"

I couldn't really lie. He could see into my mind anyway. "I'm not feeling too psyched about that."

I was loving that we were having an actual conversation. With verbal words instead of thoughts. It made me feel normal and gave my mind a chance to rest.

He looked sad, but it wasn't really like he hadn't expected my answer. "Of course not. But are you feeling ready? Or is there something we really need to practice?"

I frowned. Was there anything I _didn't_ need to practice? I felt like I was bad at everything alien I had attempted.

Max never liked when I thought badly about myself, which was flaunted on his face as he followed my self-criticism.

"You are a natural, Liz," he whispered, barely restraining his irritation at my inability to appreciate my good qualities.

Squeezing my hand, he leaned in to brush another kiss on my lips. "You are amazing, actually. You work harder than anyone I've ever met. Your only problem -," he paused and semi-rolled his eyes, which had me narrow my eyes at him, "well, except for your tendency to beat yourself up about _everything_ \- is that you try to perfect everything you do."

I felt a bit insulted, but I also knew that he was right. All my life I had been self-critical and always aiming to do my best - and everyone else's best.

I was about to defend myself by informing him that I had always been like that and would always be like that, so take it or leave it, but he beat me to it by adding, "When it comes to being an alien, you have to lower your standards. I'm not saying this to be mean, but you can never be an alien, Liz. You were not born an alien. You do not have alien DNA. You were not born with alien abilities."

I opened my mouth to protest, because I obviously knew that I wasn't an alien, but he wasn't done.

"Seriously, Liz. _Stop_ trying to be an alien and be _you_ instead." His fingers fluttered across my cheek and his voice softened, "Be Elizabeth Parker. Strong, intelligent, caring, loving, stubborn Elizabeth Parker. And everything else will work itself out."

His words had my chest fill with air, my heart grow with love. I was moved by his words, sudden tears creeping into my eyes.

"You know the basics now. You have practiced every ability I have. We have learnt new ones together. You have even learnt key Antarian words. There's nothing else you can do."

I still wanted to protest. The same way that I had always wanted to protest when my father told me during the last evening before an important exam - when I had a tendency to stress out in my need to excel - to stop studying and relax for the remaining time. According to him, I already knew everything I needed to know and now I needed to relax, or else I would not be able to access the information later on anyway. But the need to protest was always there, since I felt the obligation to study up until that school bell rang.

Hearing my thoughts, Max said, "And now you need to be just you. Because it's _you_ that's going to get through this and win it."

"You too," I whispered weakly, feeling overwhelmed.

He smiled sadly and I knew that he was hoping that he could tell me so for sure, "Yes, me too. We'll win this together."

I snuggled close in his arms, whispering "I love you" into his ear and smiled when he returned my declaration of love. Soon after that I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

I was awakened by someone singing. The voice sounded far away - a female voice - and the slightly off-key strange song seemingly bounced around me.

Slowly opening my eyes, I realized with a start that I was not in the same room that I had fallen asleep.

I was in my bedroom. _My_ bedroom. The one that had burnt in the fire that killed my mom.

My heart was already galloping in my chest and I blinked rapidly while scanning the interior of my room. It was just as neat and organized as I remembered. But something about it didn't feel like home. It didn't _feel_ like my room at all.

Seated in my queen-sized bed, I felt threatened. The room was only lit by the small lamp on my nightstand, obscuring most of the interior in shadows.

"It's a dream," I mumbled to myself, pulling on the duvet to cover my upper body. "It's a dream it's a dream it's a dream."

 _Hide and seek, says the wind_  
 _In the shade of the woods_

The singing was coming from outside my room, echoing as if it was being sung in a large bare warehouse rather than the cozy living room.

I looked over at the door, noticing the door was slightly ajar. The crack between the door and the frame shone with black darkness.

"It's a dream," I repeated again, digging my fingers into the center of my palm, willing me to wake up.

 _Hide and seek, says the moon_  
 _To the hazel buds_

The voice was getting closer. I debated with myself to get up from the bed and run across the room to close the door. But like a child afraid of the monsters under her bed, I was afraid to leave the comfort of the bed.

 _Hide and seek, says the cloud,_  
 _Star on to star_

The voice was eerie: airy as the wind, heavy as the chills you got when walking alone at night in a dark forest. Even more frighteningly, I was slowly realizing that I recognized the voice.

 _Hide and seek, says the wave_  
 _At the harbor bar_

I had only heard it at one point before, but it had been enough.

Laughter. Loud and scattered laughter erupted between the singing, and there was gleeful joy in the voice as it called out, "Want to play hide 'n seek, Lizzie?"

I stared at the door, my heart throbbing painfully in my chest, my knuckles turning white from clutching the duvet. I tried to will myself to take deep breaths and shake off that feeling of suddenly being five years old and once again afraid of the dark.

I needed to barricade the door. Close it, at least.

 _Hide and seek, say I_  
 _To myself, and step_

Taking a deep breath, I quickly pushed the duvet off me and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was freezing cold underneath my bare feet, but I only hesitated for a second - fear making me dizzy - before running up to the door.

 _Out of the dream of wake_  
 _Into the dream of sleep_

The door shrunk away, moving further from me the further I ran.

"No..." I cried out in panic, close to tears.

"Lizzie," the girl singsonged, her voice high-pitched and crawling sinisterly over my bare arms.

I pushed forward and finally reached the door. Taking a hold of the doorknob, I was just about to close it when a face appeared in the crack.

I jumped and screamed, the blonde curls brushing against my hand, the too blue eyes staring at me, and the painted lips curled in a smile.

I unsuccessfully pushed harder on the door to get it to close her out, while her smile threatened to split her face open and her eyes widened with unblinking insanity. She laughed loudly, which had tears of terror escape my eyes, but she then calmed the hysterical sound long enough to squeeze her head through the small crack and whisper shortly and with emphasis, "Boo!"

With a scream from the deepest parts of my being, I pushed at the door with everything I had, which forced her head back from the crack.

Before the door completely closed, she announced loudly, the smile clearly audible in her voice, "Found you!"

With the thump of the door closing, I heard her scream.

With trembling fingers, I turned the small key in the lock and took a step back, staring at the closed door. Only a second passed before I realized that it couldn't be her scream. It was too terrified, too raw.

And with a jolt, it brought me out of sleep.

Straight into a real-life nightmare.

Before I saw anything else, before I registered anything else, I saw Diane. I saw the stranger behind her, the thick arm wrapped around her middle, and then the desperate look in Diane's eyes.

Next I saw her husband getting to his feet and Dresden cautiously approaching from the other side.

The stranger hissed like a snake, his human face removed, exposing his alien face: the lower part of his face lacking mouth, the upper part containing two black eyes, and his massive stature towering behind Diane's body.

The fear in her face was accentuated by how small she looked in comparison, restrained by the large monster, his body completely covering the door he was standing in front of.

"She's human, don't-" Mr. Evans started, his voice sounding nothing like I was used to.

Terrified.

The alien quickly wrapped his long bony fingers around Diane's thin throat and before anyone could do anything about it, her skin beneath and around his fingers turned red and she started screaming. A scream that broke everything in me. A scream I will never forget.

It only lasted a second. I sat frozen while melted skin and thickened fresh blood started trickling over the alien's hands, and with a large snap that silenced everything, Diane's head was severed from the rest of her body.


	107. ONE ZERO SEVEN

_Child of Music and Dreams - Thank you for leaving feedback :)_  
 _Supernaturalfan17980 - You'll find out what happened to Diane in this chapter. Thank you for the feedback!_

* * *

 **ONE ZERO SEVEN**

Maria let out a blood-curling scream, breaking the second of silence. All I could do was stare at the head of Max's mother, discarded on the floor.

My brain had stopped functioning. Everything had happened so fast, so close to the dream I had just had, that I for a second was convinced that it was all a dream.

I must be dreaming. I must still be dreaming.

But then Mr. Evans roared, grabbing the limp arm of his lifeless wife and pulling her out of her murderer's grip. As soon as Diane's body was pulled into her husband's, Dresden, Max and Michael in unison fired energy blasts at the intruder, the combination of the blasts enough to have the alien disintegrate into a fine dust.

Before the dust had settled, Dresden spun round the doorframe of the entrance to the room with his arm raised in front of him, to see if anyone else was there.

I couldn't feel my heart anymore. I was still waiting to wake up.

"Mom..."

The broken sobbed whisper came from Isabel, who was stumbling to her feet and almost drunkenly hurrying up to her mother. It was painful to watch her confusion in deciding where to go. Her mother was in pieces.

Max had already left my side, running forward and - seemingly without acknowledging what exactly he was doing - picked up his mother's severed head and brought it to his father.

"We can fix her," he told Mr. Evans hoarsely.

Maria was crying hysterically next to me and in shock I slowly reached out and placed my arm across her shoulders, pulling her into my side. Her tears were hot against my skin when she turned her face into the curve of my neck.

"No," Mr. Evans said, giving Max a slight push away from him. "She's gone."

His voice was garbled and unrecognizable, while his stance signaled strength. He would not break down. Not now.

Max pushed his mother's head towards his father again, the scene looking morbid, and I could hear the tears in his voice now as he desperately cried, "Using enough energy we can-"

Mr. Evans slapped Max. "No!"

Paying Max no further attention, Mr. Evans tenderly placed Diane's broken body on the floor and took his wife's severed head from Max's hands, placing it on the floor as close as possible to where it had been attached just a minute ago.

Michael stepped forward and grabbed Max by both arms, pulling him backwards.

Mr. Evans looked back at his son, his eyes blazing with anger. "She's dead."

Max resisted Michael's hold with everything in him, his movements turning more and more frenzied as he tried to get loose.

I squeezed my eyes closed and mumbled to myself, "Wake up wake up wake up."

"She can't be dead," I heard Isabel sob loudly and then wail, "Noooo! She can't be dead. Mom! Mom!"

I looked into Diane's unresponsive eyes. Even from the distance, I could see the enlarged pupils and the mild clouding of her corneas. The eyes of a dead person.

"We can't fix this," Mr. Evans said, echoing my own distant thoughts.

At Dresden's authoritative bark, I opened my eyes again, "We have to leave. Now!"

I didn't hesitate. They had just killed a very loved person of our group. We didn't have time to delay.

"Come on, Maria," I told my friend and got to my feet. "We have to move."

Her strong sobs didn't lessen, but she followed my instructions without debate.

"We'll leave through the other exit," Dresden hurriedly instructed. "Leave everything behind."

I heard sounds from outside the opened door, before Dresden turned around and slammed it shut. Placing his hand over the lock, he melted it, before he took a hold of Alex and told him to, "Get Isabel!"

Grabbing Maria's hand, I pulled her towards the alternative exit, looking over my shoulder to make sure that Max was coming too and being relieved to see that Michael was forcibly pulling him across the room.

Alex was struggling to get Isabel to come along with him, but her need to not abandon her mother was stronger than Alex's muscles.

Soon enough, Mr. Evans left his wife's side to help Alex transport Isabel.

As if a spell had been broken, Max forcibly stopped thinking about what had just happened to his mother the second we left the room. Like closing a door. I heard him arguing with Michael, convincing him that he was okay, and then he was next to me.

He grabbed my free hand tightly, giving Maria a glance over - to assure that she was okay (as okay as she could get) - before he looked at me. We never stopped running and I couldn't fully take in his expression. But when I saw the wetness on his cheeks from his tears, I grew aware of my own tears.

But I couldn't think about that just yet. I couldn't think about the fact that both of our mothers were dead. I couldn't let the horrific death of Max's mother feed into the memory of my own mother's death. It would cripple me.

And that was just what our enemies wanted.

Instead I squeezed his hand and sent him as much love as possible through the connection. His pain was hitting me in almost unbearable proportions, but sadly enough I recognized the pain from grieving my own mother. I never thought I would benefit from that grief, but right then I realized that it had - in a sick way - prepared me for this. Stopped me from being bulldozed by what had just happened.

Otherwise I might be like Maria right now: stumbling along under the weight of her own wrenching loud sobs.

The sobs and wails echoed off the walls as we ran further down the corridor. They came from Maria and Isabel. The rest of us were disturbingly quiet.

When we reached the thick door that would lead out of the underground bunker and into the underground dirt tunnels, I remembered my dream. Max should have seen it, but with everything that had happened, I couldn't be sure if Diane's murderer had entered the room just as my dream had been underway, distracting Max.

Either way, I needed to inform him that, "Tess is here."

His steps slowed and I adapted my pace to his, making Maria barrel into my side.

Dresden got the door open and was ushering people through, into the unknown darkness on the other side, while Max came to a complete stop and looked into my eyes. He was searching my brain for answers, and with the dream at the front of my mind right then he easily found what he needed.

Looking both troubled and worried, Max turned to Dresden and gained his attention by placing a hand on the leader's shoulder.

Dresden distractedly looked at Max and said hurriedly, "Just go on through, Max."

Max inconspicuously shook his head and stated firmly, "Theresa Carter is here."

Dresden paused in the act of ushering my father through the door and slowly turned to Max. His face was unreadable, but his body had gone rigid.

Answering the unspoken question that hung in the air, Max said, "She visited Liz's dream right before the attack, stating that she had 'found' her."

"Right," Dresden said slowly, his gaze flickering around the remaining members (Maria, Max, Mr. Evans and I) and moving over the opened door. "That's not good."

He rapidly pointed towards the door and told the remaining members of the group to go through.

My stomach clenched and my chest tightened up as my nostrils were filled with the murky smell of damp dirt. The smell brought back memories of the hole in Max's abdomen. It brought back memories of blood and death.

I gagged, just barely stopping myself from throwing up. Max squeezed my hand tighter.

"Alright, listen up," Dresden said after closing the door and sealing it shut after him.

I looked at the seal he had just made and wondered why such a seal hadn't been done before so that the alien wouldn't have been able to come in and murder Diane. Or maybe it had been done, but had failed at keeping them out. If that was the case, why bother with doing it now?

Only the occasional hiccuped sob from Isabel was heard as Dresden started talking. I looked over at her, realizing that she was seeking comfort in Alex's arms. He had wrapped both of his arms around her trembling body, hugging her tightly.

"There are reasons to suspect that Tess is close by. Which complicates things further. Be suspicious and objective about what you see from now on. If she gets close to you she might manipulate your mind and make you see things that are not real. If something seems odd, out of place, too extreme; use caution. It might not be true. Trust your gut feeling. It'll be the only thing that has a chance of guiding you if Tess hijacks your mind. She might be clever enough to try and turn you all against each other. Don't believe it. We're working together now, right? So if someone seems to have turned against you, it might be a trick." He took a deep breath. "Do. Not. Feed. Into. It."

There was a second of silence before Isabel's voice, thick with tears, croaked, "Maybe she already did it. Maybe mom dying was all a trick-"

Isabel instantly got the hopes up in the group, while I felt a twinge of horror at having left Diane behind. What if she was actually okay? What if her death actually was a trick of the mind?

But Mr. Evans crushed that belief and there was no mistaken that he would have wished for Isabel's hopeful theory to be true. "Tess is strong, but she's not strong enough to manipulate so many minds into seeing the same thing at the same time. Because you all saw it, didn't you?"

I nodded mutely and felt that heavy grief brutally suffocate the momentary shred of hope when the rest of the group joined in with nods of affirmation.

A broken sob tore over Isabel's lips, but there was no more after that. She swallowed harshly and nodded, mostly to herself. My heart ached when Alex pressed a slow gentle kiss to Isabel's forehead and she automatically pressed into his body.

"Okay," Dresden said. His voice was incredibly jaded. "Stay together unless you are ordered otherwise. Look out for each other."

"We're about 4 miles from Command's location," Mr. Evans said evenly. "We might not have a chance to rest going there. There is a high risk that we have to go into battle immediately when we get there or most likely before then. We will be traveling underground the whole time. We will not light up the tunnels if not needed. Traveling in darkness gives us better protection."

That's when we heard the sounds on the other side of the closed door. My heart plummeted to my stomach and my deep gasp collided with Maria's. The alien murderer had not been alone.

Dresden lowered his voice into a hissing whisper, "Okay. Go!"

We scampered off, like frightened mice.

The tunnels were dark and frightening. Our nerves were on high alert, jumping at any possible sound that was out of the ordinary. For the most part, we only heard the sound of our own footsteps and nervous breaths. But occasionally, I thought I heard echoes of far-away laughter. But maybe it was just my stressed-out brain making things up.

Just like the tunnels leading up to the underground bunker where we had spent the last six days, the tunnels leading away from that bunker had sporadic exits. During the first stretch, those exits had doors, but the further we got, they were just holes in the densely packed dirt walls. I didn't like those exits one bit. Every time we got closer to one, I expected someone to be hiding there waiting to spring out at us.

To keep the fear at bay, Max was talking to me through the connection. Even though it was 99% strategy and going through abilities we had practiced, there was that 1% of comfort and love declarations. He didn't seem to want to linger too long on those 'subjects' though. I understood rather early on that letting how much he loved me sink in too much would put him in a fragile place of just wanting to take one of those many exits with me and have us escape what was waiting for us at the end of the tunnels. It made him feel vulnerable and lacking control.

It was all becoming glaringly obvious that we were about to risk our lives. It had become frighteningly real for Max the moment his mother had been killed. There was no way to prepare yourself for how quickly she had been robbed of her life. Max wouldn't let himself get sucked in by the very real fear of the same thing happening to me.

At one point during that tunnel marathon I had a silent discussion with Max about Maria. Wasn't she supposed to be hidden away?

But everything had happened too soon and there had been no time for neither my father nor Maria to be hidden. We decided to discuss it with Dresden at a time when it wouldn't frighten Maria too much. She needed to calm herself down enough from the trauma of seeing Diane become beheaded with someone's bare hands before we could spring on her the plan to hide her away somewhere. Where she wouldn't have any alien powers to protect her, only the feeble fortune of a good hiding place and her ability to stay as quiet as possible.

Apparently, Dresden had already thought of this.

Through a communication device no larger than an USB flash drive, Dresden was in contact with other members of the rebellion. The device was clearly alien, being made invisible at will and clearly visible and present when it would physically change hands. Dresden kept it attached to the top of his jacket and his mind processes would activate it when he was being called for by his allies. It also functioned just about everywhere, which was especially important when traveling underground.

We could hear him communicate in a language foreign to me throughout our run. Max had taught me some words, but a lot of the words spoken by Dresden was not known to me and almost not known to Max. Max only knew basic Antarian.

This meant that our leader had arranged for Maria's asylum long before I had started worrying about it. Right around the time when we had escaped into the tunnels.

Unfortunately, this also meant that I would have no time to discuss this with Maria before it actually would happen. Maria already knew of the original plan, but I personally knew that Maria wasn't all that keen about that plan. She wanted to stay with the group.

"We are closing in on a meeting point," Dresden basically warned us, saying the first words to the group in about 30 minutes. I called it a warning since Dresden probably said it out loud just so that the people meeting us wouldn't scare us to death. We were all as tense as a cat in a dog pound filled with starving malicious dogs.

"We will be splitting the group up," Dresden continued and my heart grew ice cold.

What did he mean by that? We were stronger together. Right? That's what had been drummed into us.

His words had us all come to a halt and my grip on Max's hand tightened at the same time as his grip on mine.

Before we had found words to question or protest, Dresden continued, "Williams will take care of Maria-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Michael said loudly, putting his hands up. "That won't happen."

Maria's hold on my hand had loosened and my glance on her face took in her sudden paleness.

"She can't take part of this battle," Dresden said calmly.

Even though Michael had, just hours before, emphasized how wrong it would be for Maria to be play an active and fighting role in an alien war, he was right now opting for Maria to stay with us. "She won't be safe."

"I'm not going anywhere," Maria said, her voice a weak version of what it usually was.

I didn't say anything. I was torn. I just wanted Maria to be safe. But I wasn't sure what route was best suited to accomplish that.

If she didn't participate, she was less likely to get hurt just by not being in the midst of everything. But if she was stowed away, what protection would she get? The best men would be needed in the war. They would not be appointed to protect a human teenager.

"If she goes, I'm going too," Michael declared firmly.

All eyes were on Michael at his statement.

Max was the first to say what was probably on everyone's (except Michael's) mind, "Don't be stupid, Michael. You're needed in the battle."

"Must I remind you," Mr. Evans said, his voice still worn and oddly unrecognizable from the events earlier, "that you are appointed to protect my son? It would be-"

Before Max's father had finished what he was saying, I knew it was a bad decision to bring their archaic laws into this. Michael's eyes flashed with anger and he opened his mouth to say a thing or two, at which point I interrupted.

Addressing Dresden, I fought to keep my emotions under control and asked, "Will you leave Maria alone to fend for herself or will she be protected?"

The expression in Dresden's eyes was soothing and reminded me of the magnificent color and size of his true (alien) eyes behind that human mask. "Dan Williams will take care of her."

Michael's one-worded opinion on this was final. "No."

"You have no say in this," Mr. Evans said with cold impatience.

"Is he good? Can he protect her alone?" I asked, curling my fingers tighter around Maria's hand.

"He's good," Dresden answered simply, his tone telling us that his reply marked the end of the discussion.

But Michael wasn't sensitive to those indirect ends of discussions. Instead he looked ready to pop. Like a boiler ready to explode. His face was turning red, even in the darkness of the tunnel, and his eyes were growing larger and more distinct, taking over his face. It looked like he was fighting with himself to remain where he was and not run up to Maria.

"He's not good enough," Michael pushed out between clenching jaws. "Fucking Williams."

My throat was getting drier by the second and I forcibly tried to swallow past my heavy tongue.

Should I trust Dresden or Michael?

Michael obviously knew who this Williams was. And he didn't seem overly impressed with the man's capabilities.

 _They're not gonna waste their best men on protecting Maria_ , Max told me grimly through the connection, confirming what I had myself suspected but hadn't wanted to believe.

I felt cold all over, magnified by the feel of Maria's cold hand in mine. It felt as if I was going to lose her. Like the hold on her hand right now was the only thing keeping her alive. As soon as our hands would separate, her life would be hanging by a thin thread.

"We're losing men by the minute," Mr. Evans said darkly, his voice having dropped almost a whole octave. "We don't have time to select a man of your preference, Mr. Guerin."

"We should all be grateful that we are able to spare someone to look after Ms. DeLuca," Dresden filled in.

I'm sure it was not supposed to come off as so cold and indifferent, but the words instilled a streak of hopelessness in me. It was becoming very clear that we were all hanging on by a thread by now.

We were losing this war. And keeping one human girl safe from aliens was certainly not very high on the priority list.

To be frank, their only reason to keep Maria safe right now might only be to keep me sane and thus keep my connection to Max intact, ensuring their own survival.

I looked over at Maria and met her frightened eyes.

She might not be much to the aliens, but to me, Maria was family.

At the thought, my eyes moved to my father. He was disappearing into the background. The only times he became noticeable was when he was alone with me or Maria. On those occasions he became more like himself. But in all honesty, my dad hadn't truly been himself since my mother had been murdered.

I wondered now, catching his eyes from across the small circle we had formed, if he was only surviving because of me. If he was only keeping my mood up in training, making sure that I ate and slept, and running with me through underground tunnels, in order to make sure that I survived. Looking into his shiny tired eyes, which lacked that sparkle of the person who used to be my father, I wondered if he was already dead. If he had died that day when my mother died. I wondered if this whole alien business had robbed him of everything normal and if he would ever be able to find his way back to himself.

With his lack of active participation, I realized that everyone in the group had forgotten about him. He had formed a small group with Diane earlier - them being both human parents - but now Diane had been killed just a couple of feet from my father. With Diane's death he had all but faded into inconspicuousness.

"What about my dad?" I asked, before the lid on the boiler that was imitating Michael would shoot off. "Will he go with Maria?"

Dresden cleared his throat, almost looking embarrassed for a second (making me suspect that he _had_ indeed forgotten about my father), and glanced over at dad before answering, "Yes."

"Don't worry, Ella," my father said quietly, his voice as comforting and warm as I always remembered it to be. My heart trembled. "I'll look after Maria."

I swallowed back the tears. A few feet from me, Michael was calming down, his anger possibly interrupted by the prospect of Maria not being alone with Williams. Not that my father could do much in ways of protecting Maria, but it must have comforted Michael some - just like it did me - that Maria would be with someone she knew very well.

I was relieved by the idea of my father being hidden from the battle. Without the will to fight for his own survival, he would not survive in an alien conflict. Knowing what Maria had learnt during her stay with us in the bunker, Maria was most likely the one to protect my father if needed, not the other way around.

"Yes," Dresden declared. "Maria and Jeffrey will go with Williams. The rest of us will continue."

I swallowed and nodded. Gauging the other's reactions, they seemed complacent. We all knew that we were running out of options and that this was probably the best solution.

I squeezed Maria's hand and met her eyes. She gave me a weak smile, which I tried to return, when my father surprised me by stepping up to me and wrapping me in a tight hug.

Goodbye.

This was goodbye.


	108. ONE ZERO EIGHT

_Supernaturalfan17980 - Yes, let's hope this battle is over soon. But for the immediate future, we still have some way to go. Thank you so much for the feedback!_

* * *

 **ONE ZERO EIGHT**

An hour later I could still feel the phantom pressure of Maria's hand in mine, like a whispered memory of her warmth and presence. I was relieved that she wasn't with me right now, hoping that she was safer wherever she was, but her absence left a hole in my heart and put an ache in the center of my abdomen.

It was surprising that I was aware of those sensations, that I was even thinking about it, while I was sitting in a small room with my heart beating loudly in my ears. Maybe it was because I was scared out of my wits. Maybe it was because I was squeezing my eyes tightly closed against the intermittent flashes blinking from the crack underneath the closed door. Maybe the reason to why I was thinking of Maria right now was because I was wishing I was somewhere else - _anywhere_ else.

While trying to deny the reality I was in, I was thinking of late nights spent eating ice cream out of a shared ice cream container. I was thinking of fits of laughter that made your stomach hurt and tears run down your cheeks. Of gossiping about boys. Of binge watching tv-shows. Of making fun of reality shows and being horrified about toddlers with fake eyelashes and teeth prosthesis in beauty contests. Of laying awake into the early hours of the morning talking during sleepovers.

Those memories seemed so far away right now. While previously the alien world had appeared surreal, those memories of a normal childhood and teenage existence now seemed unreal and impossible. The world was backwards.

Max and I had been separated from the rest of the group in the chaos of smoke, enemies and screams that we had abruptly been thrown into when entering one of the underground areas where the battle was very real and present.

I hadn't seen the blast that had seared the outer contour of my right arm, but it had been enough to throw me backwards against the wall. If Max hadn't been holding so tightly onto my other hand, I might have been separated from him as well.

Something had been on fire. The smoke was thick enough to cause my eyes to sting and my lungs to struggle in receiving air. There was no chance of seeing anything in the smoke, and I'm pretty sure that no one had actually aimed at me. Instead I had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

At least the pain of my burning skin was enough to momentarily distract me from the flashbacks of being so close to fire. The memories of having been fatally burnt. I would have died at the hands of fire had not Max saved me that day. A day that seemed forever ago.

"Fuck!" I heard Max exclaim, pulling on my uninjured arm to get me closer to the human-alien shield his body provided.

Unaware of what we were walking into, we were late at getting the shield up, failing in protecting me from getting hurt. But the protective field was activated before I had registered my burnt skin and had understood what had happened.

Max's conscience was already telling him - rather harshly - that he had already managed to fail me.

And we had barely gotten started.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, pressing my teeth tightly together at the burning sensation of my skin.

He couldn't hear me over the noise of our surroundings, and even if he had, he probably wouldn't have taken my assurance seriously.

To be accurate, I was not fine. But I was not incapacitated either. Far from it. It only took a couple of seconds for the shock of having been shot to disintegrate, but by then, we had already lost the others.

Max tugged on my left arm. "Come on!"

The air was more breathable inside the protective cocoon. I had no idea of how it worked, but maybe the foggy barrier protected against the large smoke particles somehow. It did not, however, help us find our way.

A blast hit the field and I instinctively jumped as it exploded with a golden light against the shimmering protective wall five inches from our faces.

"We're safe," Max hurriedly assured me, when my feet froze for a moment.

They had tried to prepare me for this. They had trained my body, trained my mind, taught me a foreign language, informed me of their culture and what horrendous things they could do to humans, and even shown me their true alien form.

Still, I was not prepared.

Nothing would have been able to prepare me for the reality of this civil war between two different groups of aliens.

A bleeding face of someone I didn't recognize appeared to the right in my field of vision and I instinctively raised my arm and did what I had been trained to do; I rapidly tapped into the connection, assimilated energy and released it at the stranger.

Since our protective field was created by our own energy, energy blasts always went through the shield, the energetic wall recognizing the blast as self, which meant that the blast hit the man in the head, instantly demolishing a good part of the left side of his face.

I screamed as I saw it happen, the reality of what I had just done shocking me, and my hands started shaking violently as I watched the man fall forward, his legs bending at the knees, his hands not supporting his fall as he collapsed face down on the concrete floor.

I had killed him.

"He was the enemy," Max was quick to tell me, a mixture of his feelings slipping through the connection. He already knew what would be my next question.

Had I killed the right man?

It was not like in school, like in dodge ball, when people of the opposite them wore different team colors. I would not be able to easily tell which ones were on our side, since I didn't know these people.

Well, that was not entirely true. 'Our people' were supposed to have a mark on the neck. I had it. Max had it. The Antarians had manufactured it into their skin through manipulation of cells, while mine was drawn on by permanent marker. The mark was so that we could identify each other. But no one told me about the possibility of fires and obscuring smoke. And I hadn't thought of injuries possibly hiding the team label.

To complicate things further, I had been told not to trust the marks too much. Even though they had an intricate design enemies could copy them and put them on their own necks.

"He was going to kill us," Max added, guiding me forward. Or backwards. Or sideways. I wasn't really sure. I stared over my shoulder, down at the man I had just killed - lying still on the floor - until I no longer could see him through the thick veil of smoke.

There were orders and instructions being screamed all around me, but I rarely saw the people responsible for the call-outs. It was like the voices were coming out of loudspeakers, giving Max and I the illusion that we were completely alone.

The orders were a mixture of English and Antarian. I presumed they were from both sides. The commands ranged from instructions to move in one specific direction, to duck, to fire, to take cover, to personal exclamations along the lines of "What the fuck are you doing?" and "You're with them, you son of a bitch?!"

This was obviously a very personal war. Which made it all the more horrible. It meant that the individuals firing blasts and killing each other all knew one another. It was not about killing strangers. It was about killing your own kind.

We had moved as fast as was possible through the smoke until Max had found a door and guided us into the small room where we were now. Max had finally let go of my hand, had melted the lock on the door and pushed on the top of my shoulders to get me to sit down. Next he had crouched in front of me and groaned with frustrated concern when he had been able to fully inspect my burnt arm before quickly healing it. The relief of suddenly having normal, painless skin was as amazing as it was sudden.

He had looked deeply into my eyes at that point, his gaze almost probing. He hadn't ask me anything. Hadn't vocally checked if I was okay. Because he already knew the answer. I would never be 'okay' as long as I was in our current situation. But he still needed to make sure that I was at least functioning. That I wasn't shutting down.

Our survival depended on it. Just as much as Max needed to be present for us to make it through this, _I_ needed to keep it together to keep the connection working.

After searching my face for a second or two, I guess he found the answer he was looking for, because he slowly pressed his lips against mine, his kiss prolonged and still, as if he was resting in the mere warmth of our lips touching, before he pulled back and took a seat next to me.

He was seated closest to the door, with his back resting against the well. But his body was tense and ready to fight. His face was hard and emotionless - probably what one might call a 'Warrior Face' - and he was staring straight ahead, seemingly disconnected from reality.

But I heard him strategize in his head. I heard him assimilate one plan after the other now that we had been separated from the group.

That's when my mind had started to drift. To Maria. To normalcy.

Max was doing what made _him_ feel in control and feel safe. In other words; thinking of war strategies and how to keep me out of the worst of it.

I was doing what _I_ needed to do to be in control and feel safe. Thinking of home and family.

"Okay," he interrupted my thoughts and turned to me.

The darkness was thick around his head, and the smoke had irritated his voice enough so that I could barely recognize it as he spoke, but the determined expression in his eyes was hard to miss.

His hand whispered across my cheek, tempting me to close my eyes at the sensation, but I struggled to keep my irritated eyes open to not miss anything he had to say. "It's going to be harder than we anticipated for you to see who's on our side and who's not. So I'll be telling you through the bond who is a threat and who can be trusted."

Max knew a lot of these people by appearance. I didn't.

"Unless they are behaving threateningly - like the one you just shot - await my decision on them, okay?"

I nodded. The smoke had a heavy headache spread at the front of my skull.

"Isn't this all a moot point though?" I croaked, my vocal cords damaged by the smoke inhalation. "Can't the purists assume any shape or person?"

Max shook his head. "In a way, yes. Momentarily they can, but usually it demands a lot of energy. They usually stick to their original human shapes, since they have become a part of them and are not making them use too much energy. They don't have to constantly _think_ about keeping their facade up, which is something they have to do if they assume a new shape. For them to take on a new shape in a situation like this, they would have to be desperate for that solution since they would be risking their own survival by doing so."

I thought of Sean shapeshifting into Max when I had been held in captivity. The memory of how relieved and happy I had been when he had walked through the door - giving me the false hope that the _real_ Max had come to save me from the horrible torture I was enduring - meshed with the memory of the fear and crippling disappointment when realizing it was all a lie.

Had the fact that Sean had been wasting energy on portraying Max made me stronger? Had it been a contributing factor to how he had ended up almost dead when the connection had hurled him through the air?

Max's eyes were dark, dangerous. There was a twitch in his jaw muscles. He was reading my mind perfectly and right now he wanted to kill Sean. Even though Sean was already dead.

"Okay," I voiced, in response to his explanation, trying to calm my breath and the hard thumping of my heart to alleviate the storm brewing inside Max right now.

He inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly, his eyes never leaving my face.

Next, he gave a nod and confirmed, "Okay," before he took another breath and, "It would be best to find the others. Dresden informed me very quickly about the last whereabouts of Command, but chances are slim that he'll still be in the same place."

Command.

Our job was to take out Command.

"Dresden still knows more. And moving on to Command without anyone backing us up would be foolish."

I swallowed. But it hurt my dry throat. My affirmation was barely a croak.

He placed his hand against my cheek again, his expression softening. "We need to find the others."

He hadn't fully let himself accept the possibility that his whole family might be dead by now. His sister. His father.

I was myself guilty of consciously avoiding thinking about Alex and whether he was still alive.

"Yes," I whispered hoarsely.

He frowned for a second, his eyes looking so sad, before he bent his head to connect our foreheads. "I love you."

I closed my painful eyes for a second, sinking into his words before I whispered back, "I love you."

With a regretful sigh, Max pulled back and got to his feet. With his back towards me while facing the door, he pushed his arm out behind him, towards me, and directed sharply, "Get back."

I quickly did as instructed, meeting his eyes as they briefly glanced over his shoulder to make sure that I had moved, before he raised his other hand and blasted a hole the size of a basket ball in the door, obliterating the previously melted lock.

I didn't have time to reflect over how easy it was for an alien to get through a door where the lock had been melted, before Max had reached behind him to catch my hand and pull me towards the now opened door.

The minutes that followed were terrifying. As we moved back out into the main corridors, we took turns firing blasts at enemies. We didn't encounter many of our own men, which frightened me. Too often, we stumbled over dead individuals on the floor. Max didn't look closely enough at them to find out if they were friends or foes.

Keeping the protective field up for so long - mostly to give us protection against what the smoke was hiding, but also to prevent most of the dangerous smoke particles out - was slowly draining us. The decline of our energy was obvious the further we got and the more blasts we had to expend. When my first blast had basically taken a piece off someone's head, my blasts were after a while just causing them mild burns. Which meant that we had to fire at one individual more than once to hold them back until we eventually, after having weakened them with smaller blasts, had to fight in the most basic of ways - with fists and kicks - to finally overtake them.

It was with both relief and fear that we reached the corridor where there was no fire. The fire had been horrible to move through, limiting our vision, but it had also provided protection in that it had hid us and enabled us to surprise enemies. Obviously, our enemies had enjoyed the same advantages and disadvantages with the obscuring smoke.

With the absence of smoke, we retracted the protective field. Max weighed the pros and cons of using some of our precious energy to clear our lungs, blood, eyes and throat from the effects of the smoke (rather than saving it for fighting), quickly deciding that we needed our health and healing us.

Eagerly, I pulled in a large intake of air, before my nerves took a hold of me again and I scanned our surroundings, not relaxing for a second.

Some of the fluorescent lights were blown or had gone bad - black or blinking in the army green corridor - turning our minds tired and distracted.

There was no activity here though. As if everyone had been where the fire had been. As if we had - when avoiding the smoke - run away from the battle itself.

The calmness, the ability for me to see several feet ahead to the end of corridors and closed doors, did nothing to relax me. Rather it scared me even further. I constantly looked for hide outs, for corners from where enemies could hide and jump out. I felt naked without the protective field.

But I knew that we could not sustain the field all the time. We needed to let our energies refuel whenever possible.

 _Stay behind me_ , Max instructed, but I only partly obeyed. I didn't like it when he decided to be the main - and solitary - wall against every threat. I had learnt a long time ago that we were better together, with me standing next to him rather than behind him.

Either he was satisfied with my partial level of conformation or rather he chose not to argue, since he didn't say anything else as we cautiously walked down the corridor keeping our bodies close to one of the walls.

Thus, when a woman came around the corner, Max was only a fraction of a second from shooting her before I recognized who it was behind the blood that covered her face. Automatically, a block flew up in my mind - to prevent Max from accessing the connection - while I grabbed his hand that was already heating with a blast and deflected it towards the floor.

"No!" I cried, but Max didn't hear me. He was already focusing on who I had just prevented him from harming.

His sister.

Her hand was raised in front of her, her blonde hair matted with dried blood, her usually flawless skin scratched and bruised underneath dark red. Her eyes were wild and dangerous and from the frightened widening of her eyes I presumed that she had been as close to shooting us as her brother had been at shooting her.

"Jesus," Max mumbled.

I let go of Max's hand, rounded him and moved up to Isabel. "Are you hurt?" I grabbed her upper arms, the dried blood on her arms the texture of dried clay against my palms. I swallowed back the instant nausea, the sick notion that I was getting used to seeing blood.

I searched her eyes, which were flickering between Max and I. There was a wildness in her gaze, as if she was having troubles believing that it was us.

"Is that your blood?" Max demanded, clarifying my question.

"They're all dead," Isabel said then.

An ice cold chill raced down my spine. I felt my pulse throb frantically in my temples.

My grip tightened on her arms, demanding her to look at me. "What do you mean?"

"Dead," she repeated, her lips tight. She was not crying. Isabel was - for lack of a better description - stoic.

Fear dug its claws into my very soul and I barely heard Max's question over the loud buzzing sound in my ears. "Who? Who are dead, Iz?"

I stared at Isabel, willing her to not confirm what Max and I already suspected.

Isabel's lips tightened in a thin line, her body seemed to stiffen further, and her face was devoid of color underneath the blood that we still didn't know the owner of.

Her voice was eerie with monotony, pausing time, as she listed, "Michael. Dad. Dresden. Alex."

Everything was spinning.

"Everyone," Isabel finished, a single tremble of her bottom lip being the only sign of sadness.

I continued to look at Isabel, unable to do anything else. My body was frozen while I could only see Alex's face in front of me. I heard his laughter. Saw his warm smile, his teasing smile, his mischievous smile. I saw him make fun of Maria. Felt his hugs. Felt his warmth. Saw him make goo-goo eyes at Isabel.

I swallowed, my throat dry.

I couldn't feel any more. I had died inside, I was sure of it.

"Did you see it happen?" Max asked, his voice too cold.

He didn't believe it. He couldn't.

Isabel's eyes flashed with anger. "You think I would make this up?!"

She took a step forward, but stopped when she realized I was in the way. She looked down at me, being about half a foot taller than me, and her eyes told me something that couldn't be put in words. A mixture of fear, loneliness, grief and panic.

"How did it happen?" Max asked, causing Isabel to look at him.

Her previously frozen state was thawing with frustration. Just like Max and I, she was trying to keep it together. In the absence of sadness, anger was a very good go-to emotion. I had tried it on for fit myself on occasion.

"Shortly after we got separated from you, they ambushed us. They were everywhere." Her voice was moving up and down too much, breaking and trembling. "I only survived because I fell backwards into a cleaning closet."

Abruptly, she stopped talking, pressing her teeth together.

"What?" Max demanded.

I finally managed to move my eyes from Isabel's face and looked back at Max. I was surprised at the coldness of his voice, but I could see the disaster brewing in his eyes the second our gazes connected.

They were the same, Isabel and Max. They handle crisis the same way. Turning off. Acting like robots.

Isabel pulled out of my grip, making me look back at her.

Taking a step back, her voice tore when she cried, "I hid like a coward, okay? I hid in there until the screams stopped and the footsteps disappeared." Shame and anger broke her face, causing tears to create long pale lines in the blood and dirt on her cheeks. "I stood in there like a fucking wimp, not protecting my family or friends, while I smelled their blood on my skin."

With the silence that followed, she took another protective step backwards.

I knew I couldn't blame Isabel for doing what any 16-year-old girl would do to survive in that situation, but Alex's face was still swimming in my mind and the start of my conflicted violent feelings was nipping at my core.

But whatever might have been said next was unexpectedly interrupted by the loudest alarm I had ever heard.

I screamed in fright, but the sound of my surprised fear drowned in the repetitive alarm while everything around us went black as the lights turned off and were replaced by red security lights, engulfing the corridor in an eerie dark red hue.

My chest constricted as panic ensued and I grabbed a hold of Isabel again while looking over my shoulder at Max. He was already moving up to me, his face dark with shadows.

I screamed at him that we needed to move, but he couldn't hear me and I wasn't sane enough to think of communicating with him through the connection. There was no need though, because he was already pointing towards the darkest end of the corridor, and I was already pulling Isabel in that direction.

Isabel came to life quickly, pulling out of my grip to move with a newfound confidence next to Max and I. The alarm was so loud I couldn't even hear myself think as we were moving quickly down the corridor, still following the wall.

Amongst the monotonous sound of the alarm a metallic noise rose. Like the sound of several large chains clanging together. I reached for Max's hand while I tried to find the source of the noise.

As his fingers closed around my hand, I heard his voice in my head, _The gates are closing._

The gates?

Then I saw them. Moving out from slots in the sides of the walls were dividers made of metal bars, like doors in jails, running from top to bottom. They were positioned further down the corridor and looking behind me I could see the same type of door closing from where we had come.

The gates were sealing off sections.

 _Should we stay?_ I asked Max in desperation, even when I kept moving towards the quickly closing doors. The thought of becoming trapped down here was suffocating me.

We didn't know if the same type of gates were closing in more places of the underground system or if it was just here. At least we seemed to be alone here, it might be better to be locked in here instead of moving to a new foreign place where there might be enemies waiting.

 _No,_ Max answered shortly, but I could hear the indecisiveness in his mind. He didn't know. He just didn't want to get stuck here.

Isabel stumbled in front of me and straightened, before stumbling again and falling. I immediately bent down to help her up, keeping an eye on the slowly closing gates in front of us. It couldn't be more than ten feet between us and the gates, but with them being close to fully closing, ten feet might as well be miles away.

Max came up on Isabel's other side and together we got her to her feet.

 _I'll take her,_ Max said when I stumbled due to Isabel's floundering gait.

So I let go, but stayed just behind them to help them if needed.

I felt the panic build in my chest as the opening between the two closing doors approached three feet, just enough for both Isabel and Max to get through.

 _Hurry!_ I yelled at Max and watched him basically push Isabel through before he followed.

He stopped just on the other side of the gate, looking at me, and I was just about to take his outstretched hand when his eyes widened and he yelled in terror in my head, _Watch out!_ , but it was too late.

Just before the two opposing doors closed, leaving an opening that would have been big enough for me to squeeze through but not for Max to squeeze back, something grabbed my pony tail and tugged on it sharply, pulling me back. Away from the closing doors. Away from Max and Isabel. Trapping me on the wrong side of the closing gates.

My heart jumped into my throat and my eyes were on Max's face, his mouth shaping to scream words that were not audible over the sound of the alarm, my mind stating one simple fact.

 _I'm dead. This is when I die._

But with the final clanging of the gates, signifying the completion of the closing process, the alarm stopped and the lights blinked back on, leaving only the consequential ringing in our ears.

An arm had snaked around my throat, pressing tightly against my windpipe, another arm was around my waist.

With the gradually tapering ringing, I started hearing Max's voice, who was still yelling words. On the other side of the closed gates.

Max's eyes were furious, his body language wild as he seemed to want to break down the bars with his bare hands.

Cold moist lips touched my ear and a whispered exclamation chilled my blood with déjà vu. "Boo!"

Finally, Max's words got through my crippled eardrums. "Get the fuck away from her, Tess!"

* * *

 **Hi everyone!**

 **So sorry for the delay. As you are all aware of, Christmas is coming up and it's been a bit hectic. Both for me and my editor. In attempt to make up for my absence, this chapter is slightly longer than my average chapters.**

 **Thank you so much for reading and commenting! 3**


	109. ONE ZERO NINE

_VagynaJonesJohnson - Thank you so much for your feedback! :)_  
 _Supernaturalfan17980 - Thank you :D_  
 _dancingonstars - Thank you so so much for your feedback!_

* * *

 **ONE ZERO NINE**

I felt her breath ruffle my hair. I smelled the sweat on her skin and felt the warmth from her body.

My eyes were on Max. On his dark, furious face. In my mind I heard his heart throb with fear, which had my own heartbeat share in that rhythm of terror.

Max feared what this woman might do to me and his fear terrified me.

Behind muffled hearing - Max's screamed threats to Tess still appearing far away - I focused on the foreign arms around my body. Almost naturally, I was conjuring the same method of protection which I had used when Sean had been attempting to force himself on me.

With the energy building inside of me, a soft hint of relief playing in Max's dark eyes, Tess didn't react the same way that Sean did. Instead of anger and pain, Tess simply laughed while her skin started heating.

"He's taught you a thing or two, hasn't he?" she asked in the most gleeful of voices. "That's my man. Ever the resourceful one."

Even with the smell of burning skin I started to doubt that it was working. Maybe the connection was more deprived of energy than I had thought.

Tess continued to restrain me. Even with her skin burning, her hold was only tightening, cutting off my air supply.

My eyes were on Max that entire time. I saw the relief flee his facial features. I saw him start rattling the bars again, desperation and dark anger rolling off him, when he realized that my attack on Tess wasn't making her release me.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you to not play with fire?" Tess mused in my ear, while the heat of her skin was starting to hurt my own due to the close proximity of our bodies.

"Get off me," I pressed out through clenched teeth. Max's anger was feeding into me, slowly obliterating my fear and vulnerability.

By sharing the memories of his encounters with Tess with me, Max was making me stronger. He was providing me with an instant reason to dislike - even hate - the person who had separated me from Max and Isabel.

Tess giggled. The giggle quickly burst into full fledged laughter with an air of lunacy and I saw Max's face pale behind the shadows of his anger.

Her arm pressed into my throat, choking me. The panic at not being able to breathe started in my chest, with my burning lungs, and quickly spread through my body.

She was strong. The strength was plausibly originating from her insanity. But since it was being used to strangle me, my body tapped into an adrenaline-induced well of strength.

Her arm around my middle had captured my arms, but only barely. Teetering on breathlessness, I freed my arms and used them to pull at the arm she had around my throat. The oxygen deprivation was making me weak, but within seconds I had managed to pull her arm upwards where I angled my chin downwards to bite into her burnt underarm.

Fluid which had accumulated in the heat blisters on her arm crept into my mouth when my teeth ruptured the thin layer. The warm transparent fluid touched the tastebuds on my tongue, but I pressed the disgust back and sank my teeth as deep as I could to inflict as much pain as possible.

I could fight without powers too. I had the survival instinct of a human being.

Finally, pain seemed to register with her and her laughter melted into a loud deep scream that tore through my ears while I got loose and spun out of her grip.

For the first time, I was face to face with the real Theresa Harding.

My first observation was that she was a tattered version of the Tess I had met in my dreams.

Her hair was tangled and oily, a disorganized mess around her face. Her skin was red and blistering (most likely because of what I had just tried to do to her), with blood dripping from the arm where I had just bit her. Her clothes were torn and dirty, her feet bare and blackened. The expression in her eyes was feral. Her lips had been painted with lipstick, but the lipstick had ended up more around the outside of the lips than on the lips themselves, making her look frighteningly similar to a clown.

And the clown was happily smiling at me.

 _She's insane,_ I realized.

Max had told me as much, so had Max's father and Dresden, but to actually stand in front of a mentally disturbed person was horrifying.

She was only two feet away from me, still I could smell her. Smell her inability to look after her own hygiene, smell her madness.

I took a step back towards Max. A slow and cautious step, since I had no idea what powers Tess had (except mind illusions). I was prepared to throw the protective field up, almost positive that she would fire a blast at me.

She did indeed raise her arm and she did release some kind of energy. But behind the protective field I had instantly produced between her and me, I saw the bars to the gate behind me (gradually, but quickly) turn a rusty color before lighting up in a glowing red.

Turning to face Max and Isabel - my side facing Tess - I saw Max rapidly jerk his hands off the bars and I felt the whispers of his burn through the connection. Keeping a constant eye on Tess in my peripheral vision, I noted that she was still keeping her arm raised, continuously heating the bars with her energy.

In effect, she was preventing me from getting physically close to Max, which would have strengthened our connection.

"Did you get the news, Max?" Tess singsonged with increasing redness to her face. "Did you hear about your daddy dearest?"

Max's face hardened while Tess continued, "But he never was very dear to you, was he? You always had a problem with him, if I remember correctly."

"Shut up," I growled at her.

Max didn't move. He barely appeared to be breathing. Tess turned, twinkling mirthful eyes at me.

"It's true," she emphasized with innocently raised eyebrows. It transformed her dirty face into the definition of a contradiction. Dirt and innocence. "He hasn't told you?"

She took a step towards me, but I remained rooted to my spot. I didn't want her to intimidate me. Her teeth slowly sinking into her full bottom lip, she languidly shook her head while clicking her tongue. "Max showed me _everything._ How much he hates being an alien. How much he hates his father. How annoying his sister is."

"I didn't show you anything," Max stated coldly. Flatly.

Isabel was standing behind Max, face pale. My gaze stayed on her face, frowning at her color, recalling how she had been having difficulties walking just now. I looked at the blood on her clothes. Had there been that much before?

Next to me, Tess dropped her arm. The bars still glowed with heat and would surely retain the heat for some time.

Obviously refueling her energy, Tess turned to me, eyes cold but playful. "They are so soft, aren't they? Lovely, really. Warm. Heats you up."

I pulled my gaze away from Isabel, simultaneously feeling how Max's attention became divided. Split between me and his sister.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I bit out.

My eyes strayed to the stains of blood on the floor below Tess' arm. Even with my aversion to blood, it was better to look at that dark redness than Tess' face.

"His lips," Tess answered simply.

The realization tore painfully through my chest. I visualized him - Max - kissing _her_ and freezing trembles rushed through me with sharp prickling torment.

She angled her head to the side, blackness filling her eyes, while she pondered, "I don't like to share."

"Me neither," I grumbled, anger boiling in me. I wonder what she was referring to. But I had my suspicions.

She was insinuating that Max was hers.

Her laughter was sudden and loud. It stopped just as abruptly as it had started with her picking up on some kind of singsong rhyming, "Ring around the rosie," she took a step towards me, "a pocket full of posies," I took a step back, "one," she looked at Max, "two," she looked at my face with a grin spanning from ear to ear, "three," her eyes traveled down my body, making me feel exposed and ridiculed by the judging expression on her face, "four." She grew still and whispered, "We all fall down down."

"You're insane," I whispered back.

"You'll see," Tess said. "He'll break his crown and you will tumble."

"He doesn't belong to anyone," I told her tightly, my chest aching with darkness. "Especially not you."

"You little whore," she said quietly.

I swallowed. There was something in her voice that made me feel guilty even though I had done nothing wrong. Even though I was not what she was accusing me of.

Her voice grew louder, "He was mine. They promised! He is mine."

She frowned, looking lost as her gaze fell to the ground and flickered across the floor without aim. She continued talking, mostly to herself, "Our children will never meet him. Tiny seeds that will never grow. They will eat me up from the inside. They're starving. Eggs without life."

I couldn't look away. My eyes were fixed on her, tuned into her rambles. I was so transfixed by her words that her instant refocusing took me off guard.

Her head shot back up, her eyes wide opened with her pupils divulging the irises, her voice threatening and cold with the loud hiss of, _"You bitch!"_ and then I was flying through the air like a lifeless, vulnerable, fabric doll.

My right shoulder hit the wall first, the loud pop of the joint dislocating reverberating through my whole body. My head hit the wall next, pain exploding behind my eyes, dark spots blotching my vision. My body crumbled to a helpless pile of limps as the strong claws of gravity forced me to the floor with a numbing pang.

For the next few moments, I couldn't tell what was going on outside of the ringing in my head. I was lying on a non-functional, aching shoulder, the muscles of my upper thighs were throbbing from the impact and my ankle was hurting from having been in the wrong position when my body had fallen on top of it.

My hearing was going in and out, like a bad radio reception, and I was fighting to not give in to the beckoning darkness.

Immersed in the thickness of pain and injury, I barely registered the burning sensation around my wrist, creeping up my arm, zinging the fine hairs and heating my skin.

It felt like I was moving. Like I was on a big wave, floating on top of the gentle movement.

Then it came to a stop and I was solid on the ground again, this time someone's hand in my hair.

Before I had time to panic, my blurry brain communicating that it was Tess, Max's voice made it through the thrumming in my injured head.

How was he close? All I knew was that I had been flung up against a wall several feet in the opposite direction of the gate that was already keeping me separated from Max.

A thrill of relief went through me.

Was the gate up?

Then I felt the increasing heat around my arm, quickly overriding the pain from my other injuries. Another type of heat was warming the top of my head and tiredly I figured that he was healing me. But while the heat to my scalp was soothing the pain in my head, the pain in my arm was intensifying.

I screamed as my unjoined arm was sharply pulled and Tess' voice cut through my healing head. "Get your hands off her or I'll pull her whole arm off!"

The comforting heat to the top of my head vanished as quickly as someone blowing a candle out and the burning pain to my arm started to calm down.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Max roared, his voice close.

Tess laughed. "Maybe I should let her watch. That would teach her to not steal someone's man."

I bit my lip against the pain in my arm. The arm she was still holding onto with her clammy cold hand. The tears were stinging my eyes, but I refused to cry. She was probably watching me and I didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

My eyes closed, I pressed my forehead to the dirty floor and tried to wish the pain away. Tried to focus on the connection and healing myself through Max.

It was like trying to hold on to a wet slippery rope. I caught it over and over again, but lost it. Over and over again. Max wasn't focused. Max was focused on Tess and the danger she was posing to me.

"Watch what, you witch?!" he demanded.

I had never heard him that angry before. He even scared me.

Tess' voice softened, "When you fertilize me, of course."

Vomit rushed up my esophagus and threatened to spill out on the floor in front of me.

"Let her go," Max stated coldly. Tess' statement about forcing me to watch when her and Max would be having sex was probably too much for Max to even respond to.

"Are you just gonna let them die?" Tess continued, sounding sincerely upset now. "What kind of a man are you? What kind of father are you?"

"I'm not the father of your sick children, and I never will be," Max replied.

Another sharp tug on my arm, the pain radiating down the arm and up my neck, paralyzing the pain centers of my brain.

"Show some respect, Maxwell!" Tess screamed furiously.

 _How are we going to get out of this?_ I wondered.

But even with the question being posed telepathically, no one answered. Tess was succeeding in what she was doing. She was scaring Max enough by torturing me, that he wasn't focusing on the connection. All his attention was on Tess and trying to read her next move.

With that realization, I tried to reorganize. I focused on my breathing, focused on the memory of Isabel's yoga sessions, and tried to think away the pain from the arm that Tess was carelessly swinging back and forth, the head of my humerus bumping against surrounding muscles, ligaments, and the outside of my shoulder joint, sending impossible pain into my body.

I tuned out the conversation going on around me, where my occasional screams of pain only gave Tess more power while Max became increasingly desperate to do whatever Tess wanted only to put a stop to my pain.

Just like I had at the beginning of our relationship, I focused on finding that strong core of the connection between us. The very center.

The pain exploded more intensely and my heart rate tripled while a scream tore through my chest.

Vaguely I heard Tess laugh and the connection I had been focusing on was getting cooler rather than warmer.

Desperation gripped tightly around my heart when Tess let go off my injured arm and it fell heavily to the floor while the heat from Max's body dimmed.

Then her voice close to my ear, whispering, "She's dying now. Just like you. Chip chop chip chop." Giggles. "Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head. Chip chop chip chop - the last man's dead."

There was suction in the center of my body now.

Max was using a large amount of energy.

The only time that happened was during healing. But he wasn't healing me. He wasn't healing himself.

That only left-

"How does it feel to not be important anymore? Look at you. You're in pain. You're in so much pain."

The pain intensified in me, as if her words made my body realize how much in pain I really was.

"And he just leaves you."

She clicked her tongue again, as if she was disappointed in Max.

I wasn't. I knew what must be happening. Isabel was dying. She had been injured previously. Her imminent death was one of few reasons why he would not be able to focus on me right now. Even when I needed him.

He was weak now too. He was pulling a lot of energy from me. Something he wouldn't do if he didn't need to. Especially not when I was hurt.

His actions didn't make me worry about myself or how vulnerable I had become, rather it made me worry about Isabel.

"Just forget about him," Tess continued. "He certainly has forgotten about you."

I was not one to listen to the ravings of a madman, and I wouldn't start now. While she kept on trying to pull me off balance, I did everything to remain stable. I concentrated on feeding Max the energy he needed while biting my teeth hard against the pain.

It was something in her tone of voice that brought me back to listening to Tess. Something about the smug surprise infiltrating her statement, "Oh, well look at that."

It had me opening my eyes and lifting my forehead off the floor. Pain shot down my neck as I raised my head and took in my surroundings.

Stumbling in from a side corridor, with blood running from his hairline just above his temple, was my father.

My heart stopped beating and lodged in my throat as white blinding terror coursed through me.

With a bemused short laugh, Tess straightened and announced theatrically, "Well, hello there! Welcome!"


	110. ONE ONE ZERO

_Supernaturalfan17980 - Thank you :D_

* * *

 **ONE ONE ZERO**

"Run!" I screamed, forcing my aching body upright. "Run!"

My father's surprised eyes flew to my face and mixture of terror and surprised recognition saturated his features. A weak, hopeful, "Lizzie?", before he took a step towards me.

My heart sank and I gestured with my unharmed arm for him to go back. "No! No, don't come any closer!"

 _Go back to where you came from, Daddy,_ I told him silently, tears clogging my throat. _I can't lose you too. I can't._

"A friend of Liz, are you?" Tess mused gleefully and walked briskly towards my dad.

Her sharp steps had my father take a confused step backwards.

"Oh, I see the resemblance now," Tess cried out happily as she stopped right in front of my father.

In horror, I watched her stretch her arm out and I screamed, "Ruuuun!" and saw her grab dad's hand in a greeting handshake.

Her hand still clasping my dad's, Tess looked back at me over her shoulder, "Oh my God. Chill, Lizzie."

There was something dangerous in her eyes. Something that she reserved only for me and had probably been removed from her face once she looked back at my father.

Doing so, she told him calmly, "I'm Tess. And you must be Liz's daddy."

Dad nodded, perplexed.

"Wonderful!" Tess cried out, excited, let go off his hand and brought her freed hand up to his head.

I took a stumbling step forward, my injured ankle folding painfully under my weight, making me close to falling over. "No! Don't-"

I had been convinced she would touch his forehead and instantly kill him. Instead she touched the blood at his hairline and mumbled compassionately, "Oh no. You're hurt."

"Yes," dad answered. "I fell."

"Oh," Tess concluded emphatically, turning her head and hitching her thumb in my direction. "Lizzie fell too. Didn't you, honey?"

"Get the fuck away from my dad," I threatened then, ignoring the pain in my shoulder and my foot as I traveled across the floor.

Tess clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disapproval. "Such behavior. Such language." Looking back at my father, she added, "She must have learnt that from her mother, obviously. Because you are just too adorable to use such language."

Fiercely, I tried to get a hold of the connection. To access powers. I wanted to blast her to hell. I wanted to turn her into ashes. I wanted her gone from my dad.

Dad looked at me, concerned. "Why are you so upset, Lizzie? She seems like a nice young lady. Is she a friend of yours?"

Instead of answering, I felt the familiar energy build inside of me and without a word, I quickly raised my healthy arm and fired at Tess' back.

Somehow she sensed it. Somehow she knew during that fraction of a second that she was being targeted and she stepped to the side.

The blast missed her by barely an inch, instead hitting my father with perfect aim to the center of his abdomen. Like the exaggerated visual effects from an old movie where someone is hit with a canon ball, the blast left a perfectly round hole in my father's abdomen. Through it, I could see the army green of the wall behind him.

His mouth formed a surprised 'O', before his eyes rolled back in their sockets, his legs folded and he tumbled to the floor.

"Noooooooooooo!"

Someone was screaming. I have no idea how I got from where I was standing to my father's immobile body.

His eyes were still blinking. His heart was still beating.

But not for much longer.

My tears hit his face, rolled down his pale cheeks and pooled between the dark thick hairs of his unshaven face.

I had killed my father.

I had killed dad.

I killed dad.

I KILLED DAD!

Blood ran from his mouth and the smallest droplets of red sprinkled across his chin and cheek as he coughed. Unseeing eyes searched for me, while he gurgled, "I...love you."

"Daddy, no," I whimpered.

This couldn't be happening. What did I just do? Why did she move? Why did I even shoot? With my father so close by. It didn't make sense. He couldn't be dead. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be hid away from the war. With Maria.

"I'm sorry," I blubbered. "I'm so sorry. Oh my God. No. I love you." I buried my face in the receding warmth of his neck, my voice disappearing against his skin. "I love you. Don't leave me. Please. Don't. I love you. I only have you. There's only you left. Please."

"True as steel," the voice I had come to hate mused and with teasing added, "I know something you don't."

Anger was building. I would hunt her down and kill her.

My fists clenched.

But first, I would stay with my father when he drew his last breath. I wouldn't leave him alone.

"Don't you wanna know?" she taunted.

"Fuck you," I whispered, rather sure that my father wouldn't hear. He was already too far gone.

"I'll just tell you anyway," Tess chirped cheerfully.

"Go fuck yourself," I added for good measure. _I'll deal with you soon._

"You know all that energy you just used to kill your own father," she laughed, amused, and added under her breath, "Still can't believe you did that."

She left a pause, probably to see if I would react, before she continued, "Anyhoo... When you stole all that energy from Max, he failed to save Isabel."

I froze. She laughed.

"What do you call that? Isn't it... There's an expression for that..." She giggled, almost drunkenly. "Right! To kill two birds with one stone."

My will to live was slowly seeping out of me.

"Or, to kill one father and one friend with one blast." She laughed again. "This is great! I haven't had this much fun in years!"

I thought about Max. I thought about Maria. They were the only ones left. If my father was walking about, did that mean that something had happened to Maria too?

I rationally considered ending it right there. I wanted to continue to live for Max, but by this point, after everything that had happened, was there any reason to? He might be dying now as well, as a result of me pulling all that energy from him.

I lifted my head from my father's neck to look over at where Max had been. As I did, the lights started blinking around me, distracting me, and I quickly tried to locate Tess' whereabouts.

She was standing just to my side, her expression bewildered as she alternated looking at the ceiling lamps and the gate.

"What's-" she started saying, but I never heard the rest of it.

My vision went black and I lost consciousness.

Someone was lightly slapping my cheeks. Over and over again. Left cheek. Right cheek. Something was slowly and gently being dragged across my lips, before a whispering touch moved over my tingling cheek.

Sounds were loud around me. But like being under water, the sounds were far away. Still, within all of that, I heard my name. Spoken with his voice.

It was impossible to ignore.

His voice was calling me like a siren.

"She's waking up," he mumbled, addressing someone.

"Good. Because we need to move."

I recognized that voice. Extremely well.

"We need to find out what she saw."

 _Isabel._

But how?

Last thing I remember, she had died.

At least, Tess had told me so.

"She might become a liability otherwise."

I had the strongest feeling of déjà vu. Right before I managed to lift my eyelids and open my eyes, I realized why it all seemed familiar. It was like being unconscious in Max's room back at that Halloween party ages ago. How they had discussed what to do with me. How they were worried that I would - in actuality - become a liability (even if that had not been the exact phrase used at that time). How I might reveal their big secret.

"I know, Iz," Max said just as I looked at him.

I had never been so happy to see a pair of eyes in my life, and I melted into the warm concern in those amber lights.

"Hey," he told me gently, fingers fluttering across the side of my face. "Welcome back."

I blinked. Heavily. "What..." I stopped to clear my throat and lick my dry lips. "What happened?"

Isabel showed up behind Max's shoulder, fresh color in her cheeks, worry in her eyes. She was very much alive. "How are you feeling?"

"You're alive," I whispered.

Was this a dream? Had I died? Had we all died? Was this heaven?

She smiled. Brightly. "Of course, silly." Jabbing Max playfully, she added, "Brother did good job."

Max rolled his eyes at her, but it was clear that he was relieved and happy. Refocusing on me, a familiar line of worry between his eyes deepened and he looked straight into my eyes, "How _are_ you feeling?"

I matched his frown. Searching my body, I tried to figure out an answer. My frown deepened as I found no aches. No pain.

"Fine," I mumbled, confused.

"To make a long story short," Isabel said, pausing to look behind her. She wanted to get moving. "When Max was healing me, the connection was not strong enough to protect you from Tess' powers, so she invaded your mind and made you see something that wasn't real. Max and I have no idea what, but based on the sounds you were making, it was probably something horrible. While Tess was doing this to you, she was threatening Max in real life about him having to go with her if he wanted you to live. She was a little bit too focused on Max, missing that I had been healed and was tapping into Max's powers. Pulling on both of our energy sources, I started softening the bars. It took me some time which left you in her vision a bit too long, but finally - when she was distracted - we bent the bars and could walk through them. Max put a hand to your head, making you unconscious and cutting off Tess' link to you, while I fired at her."

I gaped at them, stuttering, "What happened to her?"

"She was injured," Isabel replied. "We didn't have time to stick around and check if she actually died, but she was mortally injured."

"There's no way of her surviving that without a healer," Max added, concluding Tess' fate.

I swallowed, the memory of my father being killed by me frighteningly fresh in my head. The hope that it had all been a mind warp was so strong that I didn't dare to ask if it truly had happened out of fear of Isabel and Max telling me that the part of me killing my father had not been part of the mind rape.

I felt Max now, searching through my head, searching my face. He was already stumbling upon the details of what Tess had subjected me to.

It was Isabel that demanded me to tell the tale vocally. "What did she make you see?"

"Tell us everything that happened after I started healing Isabel," Max clarified.

I slowly licked my lips and, with the help from Max, got up into a seated position. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his side, placing a hand to the side of my cheek to gently push my head flat against his warm chest while I placed my legs across his lap.

I closed my eyes and squeezed them tightly closed while I told them everything that had happened.

By the end of my recount, tears were streaming down my face and Max was alternately removing them with his hand and kissing them away.

"She's sick," Isabel mumbled.

"We haven't heard anything about Maria or your father, so we can only assume that they are still safe," Max said softly.

It wasn't much of a comfort, but at the moment, I would take it.

"No more news about Alex and-"

Isabel shook her head, overwhelming sadness filling her eyes before she dropped her head, almost in shame.

"No," Max answered, grabbing his sister's hand with his free one and squeezing it.

I swallowed the word, "Okay," before taking a deep breath. "So what's the plan?"

"My energy has been restored. So has Isabel's." Max pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "And I made you unconscious so that your mind could heal without interruptions. Our connection should be refueled."

In other words, "We're going back out there," I filled in.

Max searched my eyes, regret over what he had dragged me into screaming in his eyes. He nodded. "Yes."

"But now we are three," Isabel pointed out. "You two were alone before. _I_ was completely alone before. Plus, our energies are restored. As good as they can be considering that we haven't slept or eaten." She shrugged. "Time to bite the bullet."

"We're gonna stick together as much as possible," Max told me, his arm warm around my waist, the tips of his fingers pressing comfortingly into my skin. "We're stronger together."

"If we get attacked, we'll be turned so that our backs are facing each other," Isabel filled in. "To keep our backs protected."

"Only fire blasts to wound, not to kill," Max said. "Isabel found a knife earlier. It's not much, but we'll pass it between us to slit their throats, conserving energy."

I shivered at the cold, disconnected way he was discussing slitting someone's throat.

 _This is war_ , he reminded me. _They would do it to us, given the chance._

"Where are we going? Do you know?" I asked my alien companions.

"We have our suspicions on a location," Isabel answered, while Max simultaneously shared a memory image of a map he and Isabel had seen earlier. I could hear faint whispers from their previous conversation, discussing where the majority of the enemies seemed to come from, the routes they were taking.

"Are there any more gates to worry about?" I asked, briefly wondering if we were caught between two gates now or if we had encountered the only ones earlier.

"Not according to the map," Max replied. "Not in the direction we're going."

"We were in some high security area earlier. And someone triggered the alarm. But you and Tess were on the 'wrong side'," Isabel made air quotation signs at this, before continuing, "so it was a good idea for us to run in the direction we did. It just sucked that Tess got a hold of you before the gate closed."

I nodded. Max was filling my head with the information he and Isabel had gotten their hands on while I had been unconscious, making me feel as prepared as they were.

Which in all honesty was not very prepared at all. But it still felt as if we had a little bit more to go on now than we had before.

Little did I know that I would be face to face with Command in less than two hours.


	111. ONE ONE ONE

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* * *

 **ONE ONE ONE**

A year ago, I had been a small town girl. A normal small town girl, who studied too much and had grandiose dreams of going to Harvard. A small town girl who had yet not figured out what she wanted to do with her life.

My world had been small and I had liked it like that. I had quite enjoyed that the biggest dramas in my life concerned my next exam and whatever life crisis Maria might be experiencing at the time. I had been quite happy about spending my weekends curled up in my bed reading a book or watching a movie.

Outside of school, most of my hours had been filled with working at the family restaurant. I hadn't minded. Every last cent my parents had given me in wages was put away in my savings account. Because even though I liked my humble and slow-paced life, I wanted to get out of Roswell. I always believed that there wassomething bigger waiting for me out there. Away from Roswell.

Even in my small town life, I had believed that I was meant for greater things.

Apparently, I had been correct. I _was_ meant for greater things. But it was nothing like I had expected. Nothing that my wildest imagination (and sometimes it was indeed wild) could think up.

But it seemed as if I wasn't getting out of Roswell. It seemed as if I might just die here. It seemed as if my greater purpose would actually kill me.

 _Focus, Liz!_

The mental order was harsh and annoyed, snapping me back to the surreal nightmare of my reality.

My mind had only wandered for a second, trying to pretend that the blood staining the walls didn't exist and that the inches thick dust covering some parts of the ground - and which I had to walk through - wasn't the ashes of aliens.

But worse than the blood and ashes of aliens were the carcasses. Pure aliens turned into ashes, hybrids did not. Hybrids stared at me with their unseeing eyes, their death forcing me to sometimes crawl over their immobile and stiffening bodies.

The closer we got to where Max and Isabel believed Command to be, the more obstructed our path became by an increasing number of fallen warriors.

I felt removed from what was going on around me. I was sinking further inside my own mind, all mental defense blocks going up to shield me from the horrors my eyes were not prepared to see. I knew I would be carrying this around with me forever - if I survived - and something inside of me screamed for me to protect myself from future pain and nightmares.

But the biggest reason why I felt removed from my present reality was Max.

He was acting strange.

He had seemed fine for the first twenty minutes or so - after we had gotten out of our hiding spot and started walking. He had held my hand and kept me close, while he and Isabel had gone through strategies. They had even laughed on occasion - to ease the tension in the air.

Then, Max had started to communicate with me through the bond, while still talking to Isabel. I had witnessed him doing that before, but it still amazed me how he could have two different conversations at the same time.

But his ability to keep a secret conversation with me while strategizing with his sister was not what had made my throat close up. It was not even the knowledge that we were getting closer and closer to the most dangerous alien on Earth.

No, it was that Max was starting to share memories of conversations between him and Tess with me. He had done something similar when Tess had been close, to boil my anger and give me the boost to react, but this was different.

This was intimate.

I was so taken back by his actions that I asked him out loud, "What are you doing?", making Isabel stop mid-sentence and look at me with a confused, almost annoyed, expression.

He answered me mentally, _You need to know everything about me and Tess._

I frowned. He wasn't looking at me. While my eyes searched his profile, he kept staring straight ahead.

 _Why? Tess is gone. You said so yourself. That she wouldn't survive without the help of a healer. So why do I need to know about her?_ Before he could answer, I swallowed back the disgust and added, _It's hurting me._

He glanced at me for the fraction of a second and briefly I thought I saw an eye-roll, but I shrugged it off as a trick of the mind.

 _Don't be dramatic,_ Liz, he told me.

I stared at him, my mouth falling open in confused disbelief. It was like meeting the callous version of Max Evans. The popular Max Evans of Roswell High; the public facade. Someone I hadn't seen since he had yelled at me that we should have sex that day outside of school.

Sharply, I pulled my hand out of his. This time I was certain I hadn't imagined his eye-roll. This time I even caught his smirk.

I stopped. Isabel slowed her steps, looking back at me over her shoulder. "Liz?"

The confusion was clear in her voice. But I couldn't meet her frowning gaze. I could only stare at Max. Max, who was still walking. Not caring that he was leaving me behind, exposed and alone in the middle of a war zone.

Coldness draped over me in an instant, realization hitting me hard.

Shapeshifting.

I took a step back. Isabel stopped and turned towards me more fully, casting occasional glances towards Max, probably wondering why he wasn't caring.

"Liz, what's wrong?" she asked. "You have to keep up. We shouldn't be separated."

 _Who are you?_ I asked Max.

Someone had taken his shape.

Max laughed. Out loud. Isabel was not in my field of focus, but I thought I saw her briefly smile in accordance with Max.

 _Don't be ridiculous, Liz,_ Max said, dragging my name out in a prolonged hiss. Like a snake. _How would I be able to speak with you through the connection if it wasn't me?_

I blinked. The building unease was suffocating. I knew that he was right. I knew that there was no way that he would be able to use the connection if he wasn't really Max. Sean had become Max, but he had never spoken to me through a connection. Which had exposed him for what he truly was; an imposter.

Which could only mean that it actually was Max, which right now was more horrifying than any alternative. Because that would mean that _my_ Max was different.

Max had stopped walking and was looking at me, a smirk playing in the corners of his mouth with eyes dark and... empty.

I swallowed. _What's wrong? Why are you acting like this?_

 _Stop it, Liz,_ Max told me, his mental voice sounding amused. _We have a job to do. Aliens to kill. Chop chop._

I froze. His last words echoed darkly in my mind. Chop chop.

I looked into his eyes, feeling an unfamiliar type of fear creeping up the inside of my chest, wrapping cold fingers around my heart. Squeezing. Hard.

That's when everything blinked. For barely a second, the corridor I was in disappeared, Max and Isabel vanished and for the fraction of that second, I thought I saw a dirty blonde girl, her face turned downwards, sitting on the floor in front of me.

Just as soon as it had happened, it was over, and I was back in the corridor, with Max and Isabel staring at me.

"Wh-what?" I stuttered quietly, mostly to myself.

Tightly squeezing my eyes closed for a prolonged second, I tried to figure out what had just happened. Was I hallucinating? Had I finally gone insane?

Max gave his input, reminding me that he could read my mind, "You're just tired."

"Let's move, Liz," Isabel pressed testily. She had crossed her arms across her chest, looking ready to tap her foot in impatience.

I quickly scanned my surroundings, verifying that I was exactly where I had been ten seconds ago, and nodded. It was with great reluctance I told them, "Okay," and started walking towards the siblings.

Max was right. I was just tired. Exhausted, really. After everything that had happened, I couldn't really be blamed for seeing things. It could easily make me read into what Max was saying and doing as well. Maybe Tess messing with my mind had left some damage.

The thought made me pause, ice-cold shivers rushing through me, and it prevented me from taking another step. What if she had actually damaged something in my mind? Or even worse, what if she had made some changes to my brain (if that was possible), which would make me start hallucinating?

 _Don't worry, babe,_ Max told me then. _She can't do that._

Gratefully, I looked at his face, being relieved by the fact that what he had just said was more like something that the Max I knew would say. Maybe I had just read into things.

He gave me a small smile. A smile that didn't sit quite well with me. It was too happy, with a touch of dark intimidation and condescension. My instinct told me to back away. To be honest, my instinct was _screaming_ at me to run, to not trust these people. But that was ridiculous. I forced a small laugh out of me, to shake it off.

This was Max. The love of my life. My soulmate.

And Isabel. His sister. The girl that had helped me heal from the scars left behind from having been held captive by aliens.

I knew these people. They would never hurt me. They _protected_ me.

Max's eyes were flickering back and forth between mine, signaling that he was reading my mind like an open book, making his smile grow larger and even more frightening.

Goosebumps exploded across my skin.

 _Run!_

"What's the hold up, Liz?" Isabel sighed, tapping her foot now.

Addressing Max while ignoring Isabel, I told Max frankly, "You're acting strange."

He rolled his eyes.

I blinked.

He had _rolled his eyes._

His face turned completely blank, before he said, "Liz." He paused, as if he was expecting me to ask him to continue, but I had lost my voice.

After a moment of silence, he continued, "People die here." He gestured around us, at the dead bodies, at the blood, at the ashes. Lowering his voice, he spoke slowly - as if to a child, "Do you want to die?"

I couldn't tell if it was a question or a threat. I didn't even find it funny anymore that I had to pose that question to myself.

My throat was dry as I answered, "Of course not."

He raised his eyebrows and the tone of his voice stated my stupidity as he said, "Then let's move."

I hesitated. Took a look around. Considered turning on my heel and running in the other direction. Considered making it out of here on my own.

But I knew it wasn't possible. I wouldn't survive on my own.

The smile on Max's face right then let me know that he agreed with me. It let me know that he actually seemed pleased by the fact that I had nowhere to go. That I was trapped - with him.

Right then I knew for certain that it wasn't Max in front of me. At least, not the Max I had known and fallen in love with. Something had happened. Something terrible. And I had no idea what.

I was certain he was continuously reading my mind, still he didn't react - not a single emotion on his face - when I straight up refuted his identity.

Instead he put his head to the side and indicated with his finger that I should walk towards him.

Fear was making my heart slam painfully against the inside of my ribs. It was a fear I had not known before. The fear that arose from knowing that even the one you trusted the most, the one whose hands you had laid your life into, had turned on you.

This is why you should be afraid of aliens. Why they cannot be trusted.

How could I have been so stupid?

He had lured me in. A tear spilled down my cheek as I took first one and then a second step towards him and his sister.

I should have listened to Maria.

He had made me fall in love with him. He had made me sacrifice everything for him. He had made me risk my life for him. He had shared my inner emotions and seen my most private thoughts. He had been intimate with me on more levels than what was possible for a human.

My feet felt heavy and my heart was falling apart into small pieces as betrayal seeped into my system like acid. I kept my eyes on his face the whole time, knowing that he was feeling what I was feeling, _wanting_ him to feel what I was feeling. I wanted him to know how much he had hurt me - how much he was hurting me. How he was destroying me.

Judging from the lingering smile on his lips - _smiling_ when I was hurting - I had a feeling that he would not regret what he had done, not even from feeling my pain.

I might as well turn and run into the other direction. Anything seemed better than this.

My world was falling apart. My most basic belief system was not just being rocked, but demolished. This was not merely about being tricked or betrayed, this was marking me as naïve and stupid. I had gone against every natural instinct in my body, against every cautioning about aliens that had ever been made throughout the history of movies and I had still believed that this was special. That _this_ alien was kind.

I had swallowed it all. Hook, line and sinker. His every story about how misunderstood he was. About how he didn't feel like he belonged, how he didn't feel loved. I had fallen for every line about how alone he was and how I was his whole world.

How we would live happily ever after.

I kept walking, my feet heavy and my body stiff. My heart bleeding and my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

I felt like I would explode soon. Anger was building, moving through me like black thick tar, making me clench my fists tighter and tighter, burning me up on the inside.

The anger mixed painfully with the torment in my heart. The anger was the only thing keeping me on my feet. If I let go, gave in to every emotion in my body right then, I would fall. I couldn't let that happen. I was trying to close off my heart, to wall off the emotions.

I couldn't lash out on him, couldn't give in to my anger, and I could see on his face that he knew that as well. He had a dangerous and malicious hold on me.

He could kill me. He could erase my mind (he had done it once already, maybe more times than that - how would I even know for sure?) and take control of my actions. He could make me into the brainless puppet that Sean had tried to make me into. He could steal the right to my own life.

My feet brought me closer to the hybrid siblings, my body constantly alternating between freezing cold and burning up. When I reached them, they turned away from me in unison without a word and started walking, leaving me to trail a few feet behind them. I looked at their backs, traced the color of their hair, the usually familiar shapes of their bodies, the way they walked...

With his eyes no longer on my face, and his back to me, my previously restrained tears started rolling down my flushed and dirtied cheeks, the salt burning into the small wounds on my face.

My breaths were getting increasingly strained as my emotions were becoming less restrained. I was losing control. To stop myself from falling apart, I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands, biting my bottom lip until I could taste blood.

The insufficient breaths were making my chest burn and bringing me right up to the verge of screaming. With my breath hitching achingly with my deafened grief, Max resumed sending me images of him being intimate with Tess.

It was like being punched in the stomach, robbing me of all air, and there was no longer any way for me to stop it.

The scream started from the core of my being, ripped through my stomach, burned through my chest and shredded up my throat. As it tumbled over my parched lips - its force dilating the small vessels of my eyes - the block in my mind came naturally.

The block that I had never learnt to do, but which previously had successfully and completely torn the alien connection between our minds.

It still worked.

It fell like an iron wall. So forcefully that I could almost feel it. So forcefully that the scream from my lips failed to reach my awareness, separating my mind from my body.

It felt different now. It felt more complete, like a ring around my mind rather than a local wall.

In the fraction of the moment when the block came into place, Max whipped around and snarled, "Bitch", eyes black and thunderous, the face of a monster.

And I knew he was going to kill me.


	112. ONE ONE TWO

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* * *

 **ONE ONE TWO**

It was barely a second. Just long enough for him to growl "Bitch". Then the world tilted on its axis. The ceiling became a wall to my left, the floor a wall to my right.

The white corridor disappeared, its dead bodies melting away. Max - and his dark unrecognizable eyes - vanished and Isabel went up in smoke.

Instead the girl was there again. With the grimy blonde hair and the turned down face. She was seated in the space between the walls and it took my shocked mind a second to figure it out; The feel of the unrelenting ground pressing into the right side of my face, the darkness of the unfamiliar room, the unfamiliar smell, and the girl seated just a couple of feet in front of me.

Seconds ago, I had been standing up, certain that the love of my life would hurt me - badly - and now I was lying down, my perspective changed in the blink of an eye.

I felt my perception of reality teeter and shift, my mind aching from quickly trying to orient myself. How could I be somewhere else? Where was I? What was happening?

My mind was pounding from a resonating headache. I didn't let my gaze leave the girl. There was something familiar about her.

Slowly, she started moving her head, raising her face, until drained blue eyes unsteadily met mine.

Tess was alive. Tess was sitting in front of me, her body drenched in sweat, her eyes bloodshot and her hair sticking to her damp, dirty forehead.

Tiredly, managing a weak wobbly smile, she slurred, "You kicked me out."

Instantly, I understood what she meant and what had happened. Immediately, my stomach knotted painfully, tightening in on itself, freezing my next string of breaths.

She had been in my head this whole time. Tess had been in my head. How long? What had been real? What had been false?

"Is she out?"

I jumped at the sudden voice, exploding from the dark shadows. The demanding, forceful voice that brought back a much too recent - and horrible - ordeal.

Forcing my head off the ground, wincing at how the movement intensified my headache, I searched into the darkness, making out only the dark shadow with the shape similar to him.

He had just called me 'bitch'.

I swallowed back the acid of my prompt nausea, mentally shaking my head to clear my thoughts. No, no. It hadn't been real. It couldn't have been.

"Liz?" he barked, the sharpness to his voice making me doubt that I had returned to reality and that he wasn't planning to hurt me. " _Is she out?_ "

My gaze quickly flickered to Tess. To the girl whose skin color was that of watery milk and who had fresh sweat droplets trailing slowly through the sheen of dirt on her face. Her eyes met mine, the color of her irises appearing washed out, adopting the same paleness as the rest of her. A blood vessel or something had popped in her left eye, making the white sclera red. But even the color of the blood reddening her eye was faded.

She was lacking an expression. Her dry lips were slightly open, most likely due to the lack of muscle strength, and there was a faint repetitive bob to her head.

I didn't have to ask him what he meant by his question. Tess was obviously out for the count, but I don't think Max was being quite that literal.

He needed to know if she was out of _my mind._

"Yes," I whispered, my voice dry and unused. "She's out."

The right corner of Tess' mouth rose in a wobbly half-grin. Her voice sounded like an old lady as she warned Max, "Don't try anything, my love. I can still-"

"Are you sure?" Max asked. He sounded powerful, his voice strong. But I thought I could hear stress lacing his voice with subtle vibration. The vibration that signaled his fear.

"-break her-," Tess continued, apparently oblivious to the discussion between Max and I.

Assuming that the question was aimed at me, I did a quick scan of my pounding head and could only give him a well-informed guess, "Yes."

"-like a twig," Tess continued, slurring the last word.

He came out of the shadows like a wild animal. He crossed the floor in front of me so suddenly, his contours blended into a blur. Tess was off her feet before I had a chance to react, lifted in the air by Max. He slammed her body up against the wall, her body limp, the sound of the back of her head hitting the wall echoing around them.

Adrenaline had instantly infused every corner of my body, making my heart throb so loudly in my chest that I could barely hear anything outside of the rushing sound of the blood in my ears.

I attempted to lift my head off the ground again, to be able to more fully see what was happening, but the light was still too dim and Max's actions were too quick for me to fully assess the situation.

When Max had rapidly crossed the floor to Tess, Isabel came to my side and was now trying to communicate with Max in a cautioning voice, "Max…"

I could only see the right side of him, his right hand underneath Tess' chin, pressing her head upwards. In a way it seemed as he was trying to hold her tired head up, but the distance between Tess' dangling feet and the floor, and the way the skin of her cheeks and the lower part of her chin crinkled in Max's grip, very clearly displayed how Max was cutting off her air supply.

Tess had played with my mind in a horrible way, making me believe that I had killed my father (I still wasn't entirely certain that it had been a mind manipulation, but I hoped so) and having me fear Max, but still it chilled me to see her petite frame being pressed up against the wall like that, too weak to even struggle against the man restraining her.

The lack of lighting was making it difficult for me to read Max - and I no longer had a mental connection to him - but I knew that he would never do this to another person unless he or the people he loved were being threatened.

This was a war, and a lot of people had already died. Still, it was horrible to watch Max attack someone that he had known, someone that he had - in a way - grown up with.

"Max…" Tess whimpered, her voice strained with the lack of air.

I saw the muscles of Max's arm tighten, the short pause making me suspect that he was hesitating.

"You're sick," he growled in her face.

A tremble moved through me at the darkness of his voice. He actually frightened me.

Isabel's hand softly touched mine, giving me a fright, whispering, "She's too dangerous." I hadn't consciously taken note of Isabel's close proximity until now. "If we don't stop her, she might hurt or kill someone else. She's not on anyone's side. She follows her own insane agenda, which makes her dangerous and unstable."

My conflicting emotions were confusing me. I hadn't fully started to understand what had happened to me. Maybe then I would be more inclined to cheer on this mission to 'stop' Tess. But right now I was reacting like any 17-year-old girl would; I didn't think a girl my age deserved to die. And I didn't want my boyfriend to be her murderer.

"If you hadn't gotten out of her mind manipulation, she would have either left you a vegetable for the rest of your life," Isabel continued, her voice remaining hushed, regretful even, "or dead."

While Isabel was whispering in my ear, my eyes were trained on Max and Tess. My eyes were on the tight danger emitted by his body and the vulnerable limpness emitted by hers.

It was like watching a wolf attack a lamb.

Then, "I love you." Tess' plea was delivered with large helpless eyes, aimed at Max.

Those three small words spoken from her gasping mouth was enough to make me force my upper body upright and protest - in the sound level of a whisper, "Don't. Max."

Tess' gaze moved in my direction and the softness of her large eyes immediately changed into cold stone, before they changed again. Her eyes became larger, wide-opened, and the lunacy I had encountered previously infected her stare before her laugh starting bubbling over her lips.

That gasping and coughing laugh, which had tears run down her cheeks and turning them red, completely erased the vulnerable and defenseless girl I had just empathized with.

"Listen to your fucking stupid slut," Tess yelled, her eyes wild now as they flickered between Max and I. "She wants you to spare me!"

That eerie laughter brought it all back to me. It reminded me of the Tess I had met when the gates had just closed. Her arm around my throat, how she had swung me up against the wall, how she had threatened to kill me. It reminded me of how she had haunted my dreams before that and the twisted sickness she had made me see in my own mind.

Max was still. The whole incident - from Max picking Tess off the ground and restraining her against a wall up until now - had merely lasted a minute. Still, it felt like a lifetime. Like the seconds were crawling, making me experience every breath, every blink of the eye in torturous length and detail.

Max let her squirm and laugh for a couple of seconds, before she abruptly stopped. I wondered if Max had done something to her - commented to her non-verbally - because her eyes were fixed on his and for a moment they seemed completely transfixed on each other.

The moment passed and Max whispered, his voice sounding tired and resigned, "The world is better off without you, Tess."

I caught Tess' last blink.

After that, her whole body relaxed, her head tipping forward against Max's collarbone, her legs and arms dangling lifelessly alongside her body.

I held my breath, staring at the scene in front of me. I knew that she was dead. She must be. I had no idea what Max had done, but when he could have tortured her to death, she had simply died quietly, like she had fallen asleep.

The silence around us was deafening as I watched Max set Tess' feet to the ground and gently guide her limp body to the floor. A tear slowly rolled down my cheek when Max shifted Tess to lay her on her side, brushing his hand over her eyes to close them, making it truly look like she was sleeping.

Slowly, he rose while gazing down at the rather peaceful looking body of his betrothed. He stood like that for a couple of seconds, just looking at her. I barely dared to breathe.

I was in shock. My mind had not yet been given the opportunity to catch up.

Then he turned his head and looked straight at me. I felt his eyes on my face, but I could only stare at Tess and her immobility. Part of me was staring at Tess to make sure that she wouldn't wake up, that she wouldn't hurl herself at Max now when he had his back turned, but mostly I was trying to sort out the facts. Because in my head, I had just been walking through a battle, with Max being cruel and Isabel not giving a damn. It was like waking up from a very real and horrible nightmare, one of those that stuck with you and you couldn't shake even after having woken up.

It was not until Max's crouching body blocked my view of Tess that I was forced to let Tess go. I hesitated to look at Max. Tess truly had messed with my mind and her abrasive version of Max was still extremely prevalent to me.

Max moved to sit back on his heels and I could feel the energy from his warm body pulsate against mine with his closeness. But he wasn't touching me. It was like he was waiting for me to give permission.

I found a spot on his left knee to concentrate on, while trying to breathe into the obvious feeling that this was _my_ Max. Even when he wasn't touching me, his focus on me was so intense that I could almost feel his eyes roam over my body. I didn't even have to look at him to know that he was currently checking me for visible injuries. Most likely, he was also searching my aura for informative color variations. Without our connection, he didn't know exactly what or where my injuries were and had to revert to his more basic methods.

"What did she do to you?" Isabel whispered. Her question was uniquely tentative. Rarely had I heard her sound so careful.

"She damaged your shoulder when she threw you up against the wall," Max stated, his voice methodical but bitter. There was restrained anger there, the air between his body and mine vibrating with his emotions.

It was like his body was screaming with the need to touch mine.

Before I had time to answer either Max or Isabel, Max continued, "There's something wrong with your skull… and your ankle," as if he was tallying facts. It was only that he sounded increasingly bothered, every injury he was reading off my aura gradually weakening the restraint on his distress.

"Will she be okay?" Isabel asked then, her voice small. Speaking of me in third person meant that she had already given up on getting an answer directly from me.

My silence was bothering them both just as much as it was me.

My head was still pounding from Tess' intrusion. My pain from my physical ailments (which had never been healed, despite what Tess had made me believe) was slowly creeping back. The fact that my shoulder was dislocated and that something had snapped in my ankle when I had hit the floor, after having been flung like a rag doll by Tess, was rapidly making itself known.

But it wasn't the physical matters that worried me. It was that I had lost control over time and space. I had no idea where I was (were we still at the site where the gates had closed and I had been restrained by Tess?) and I lacked information on what time it was (how much time had passed? Had it been real-time when Tess had walked around in my head or had it been sped up like in a dream?). This frightened me more than anything else.

I pressed the tips of my fingers into the concrete floor, trying to determine if the solid feel of the floor was enough to prove to me that _this_ was real.

"She'll be okay," Max answered his sister. His voice was not reassuring, he basically snubbed her, his impatient tone sending a chill through me.

I didn't need any reminders of the 'other' Max. And the way Max had just answered his sister's non-intrusive question made me once again question reality.

Still, I could feel from the vibrations of his emotions clogging the air between our bodies that it was his frustration speaking. He didn't _know_ if I was going to be okay, and that made him lose his cool.

I couldn't blame him. Right now I felt like signing up for the cuckoo nest.

Isabel didn't say anything in return.

"Liz?" Max's voice was softer again. Worried, but warm. "Can I touch you?"

That's when it truly hit me that he still hadn't touched me. A fake Max wouldn't respect my space. He probably wouldn't give me the time and patience to orient myself. He would press on and insist that we needed to connect.

The realization gave me the incentive I needed to move my gaze upwards, up his dirtied clothes (was that dried blood?), up his neck with the ever increasing hair growth, across the lips I knew intimately, to finally reach his eyes.

It made my heart skip a beat. It made my throat constrict and my palms dampen. He met my gaze straight on, his pupils dilated in the dim light, a sheen of worry making his eyes glisten. Those eyes of his were saturated with emotions, which is how he would usually look at me. Amidst the anger and fear, there was no mistaken the concern and love.

It was my Max.

A shaky breath of relief flew over my lips. _This_ was reality. _He_ was real.

His eyes flickered to the tears silently running down my cheeks and his voice was barely a whisper as he repeated softly, "Can I touch you?"

Wordlessly, I nodded.

His eyes moved between mine for a second, searching my teary gaze, perhaps to assure that I was sure, before he reached his hand out towards my face and softly cradled my cheek in his large warm palm. His thumb brushed across my cheek, collecting the wetness of my tears, causing more tears to escape my eyes.

A short sob tumbled over my dry lips before I could stop it, making him rise up on his knees to lean closer to me. Maybe he was afraid of scaring me, his movements slow and cautious when he connected our foreheads.

I looked at him through my eyelashes, the heat from his palm radiating into the side of my face. He was already healing me.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking at the end. "I'm so sorry."

I gave the expected, typical refusal of his self-blame, because his apology took me by surprise, "It wasn't your fault."

"This shouldn't have happened to you," Max continued, his voice barely audible. I doubt that Isabel could hear a word of what he was saying. "She broke into the connection. That shouldn't have been possible."

I remembered the reason I had been exposed to Tess' powers and wondered if it had been true or just something that Tess made me believe.

"Isabel. Isabel was hurt?"

His answer was short. "Yes."

"Is that why…?"

Again, "Yes."

"Then it couldn't be your fault," I reasoned. It was not like I was blaming him to start with, but he was obviously blaming himself. "She would have died."

This time, a break in his voice, "Yes."

So I placed a hand to his face, mirroring his posture, my thumb brushing over the pointy hairs of his beard, and angled my chin upwards to touch my lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss.

A large tremble moved through him, a sigh of relief momentarily interrupting the flow of warmth from his hand against my skin as his fingertips pressed desperately into the soft tissue of my cheek. The touch of his warm and real lips, the feel of his energy and taste tightened my body in the most delicious of ways.

Ignoring the immediate primal emotion of desire, I pulled back long enough to tell him, "Tess saw an opportunity and she took it. It had nothing to do with your ability to protect me. It would have killed both you and me if Isabel had died. Tess is gone and the three of us are alive. Let's focus on that."

"I know," he mumbled, his lips brushing against mine with his words. "But she hurt you."

By now, my whole body was throbbing with pain. The more aware I became of the real world, the more aware my body became of its very real injuries.

"Yes," I whispered. "But I'm sure you can do something about that."

He pulled back slightly to spot the small smile on my lips. His expression was bothered, aware that I was in pain. He could probably see it all in my aura and knew me well enough by now to know that I was keeping up a facade to not worry him.

Which might be why he couldn't offer me a smile in return. Resolutely, he said, "We need to connect. As long as we are not connected, you're in danger. You're exposed and vulnerable."

I nodded, my smile gone. "Of course."

He reflected my nod, searched my eyes for objections one final time (weren't we past objections to connect by now?) before he melted our lips together again.

With our minds completely open to letting the other one in, the connection flared to life immediately. I felt his whole soul being invested in the softness and warmth of his kiss, while the comfortable heat of the healing spread down my body.

I sighed into his touch, happily forgetting that Isabel was right next to us, and captured Max's bottom lip between mine, running my tongue against the seam of it, brushing my tongue against his. I loved how he tasted. I had missed him so much. There was no doubt left in my mind that this was reality, that this was the real Max. No one - especially not Tess - could fake this kiss. There was no way that Tess had ever experienced the type of kiss that Max and I had shared many times - the type that made you lose your breath, made your knees grow weak, made you lost time and space - and because of that, she wouldn't have been able to translate the feelings of it into my mind.

No one could kiss me like Max could. No one could make my toes curl, my heart flutter, my stomach tighten and make my head go all buzzing. While he was activating every pleasure center in my body, our thoughts started moving through the open connection heightening my awareness of his being. While he was locking into all injured areas of my body, effectively healing them, our thoughts started to intermingle and communicate.

I let him see what Tess had made me see and he let me in on what had happened while I was under Tess' 'spell'. But I knew that he was holding some information back. My mind visualized it as a thin wall around his thoughts, where the details were blurred.

What I gathered from Max's experience of the incident was this; after Max had healed Isabel and could refocus on what was happening to me, he found me lying on the ground - pretty much in the same position as I had woken up in just now - with Tess sitting crosslegged in front of me. Through Max's eyes I witnessed the intense, cold, and absorbed expression on Tess' face. It was like she was in a trance. No matter how much Max screamed at her and threatened her, she never gave a single sign that she had heard him. Hadn't even flinched.

Through his memories, I saw him heat the bars of the gate, bend them out of the way, and get over to the side shared by myself and Tess. I felt the blistering on his palms from touching the scalding metal, but his focus on me had been greater than his concern for his own hands. Through his thoughts and reasoning, I followed his frustration and fear when he realized that he couldn't do anything, that he couldn't interrupt Tess out of fear of what she would do in my mind. Instead, he was forced to watch.

Forced to watch me cry and scream, my eyes closed and my mind hijacked. This is where I assumed Max was keeping information from me. I got the feeling that Max had had many thoughts and feelings during the time my mind was not my own, but he was censoring it now.

Still, he couldn't fully hide the fact that he had been minutes away from doing something drastic. He had been afraid that my mind would be fried by the time Tess got out of it, if he waited any longer.

Who knew what might have happened had Max acted in desperation?

I felt how proud Max was of me for being able to push Tess out of the connection, and my own admiration of what he had gone through seeped from me into him.

My pain was gone. My body felt warm and rejuvenated. The connection was energizing us, producing energy from our intimacy, and I could feel it refueling a large part of the energy Max had just spent - not just from healing me but also from watching me suffer at the hand's of his betrothed.

Our connection seemed more complete. Even though the bond had suffered an intruder and had been momentarily severed completely, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Compared to when Max healed someone else, healing me wasn't draining to him. It felt like his body was healing as well in the process, as though our bodies were immersed in energy, fixing us from the inside out.

The kiss slowed, became gentle and thorough. My hands moved over his broad back, his hands crept into the opening between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my pants, to touch bare skin. We were almost crawling into each other, needing the closeness more than ever.

Tess had been a close call. Too close.

Due to our proximity, it was not odd that I immediately felt when Max tensed and his lips abruptly separated from mine. My eyes flung open just in time to see him whip his head Isabel's direction, who had moved several feet away from us. I realized that she had been keeping watch, giving us space and time, but also protection.

There was a hum in my head from the recently reignited connection and while I could see Isabel's lips move, I could not hear what she was saying.

But Max could. His wide-opened eyes snapped back to my face, being fully aware of my oblivion to the most recent development, and there was no mistaken the raw fear in his mind as he told me, "Command is here."


	113. ONE ONE THREE

_Child of Dreams - Thank you for the feedback! (I'm curious to see what your reaction will be after this update...)  
Madaya58 - Your words warm my heart. You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that. Thank you so so so much!  
Supernaturalfan17980 - What is Command going to do? Well... You might not like it. Thank you for the feedback!  
Speechymol - Thank you so so sooo much for your comment! I'm so grateful you took the time to tell me that!_

* * *

 **ONE ONE THREE**

I had not forgotten the darkness. It devoured every attempt at light, suffocated it. It felt like it not only absorbed physical light, but also emotional.

The first time I had seen it was at the meeting in Hondo. The meeting that had gone horribly wrong and ended with Max and I being violently separated. The blackness had surrounded him. Like a pitch black cavity around the contours of his body, where no light could survive. Where all hope and happiness were ruthlessly extinguished.

The second - and last - time I had experienced his bottomless darkness had been in the room that had served as my cell while the aliens had held me captive. He had lifted my body off the ground and plastered me against a wall without laying a single finger on me.

It would be impossible to fully describe the magnitude of my fear as I now looked around the corner of that white wall and registered that his blackness had not become any lighter, nor had it diminished. Rather, it had grown, spreading out around him like long tentacles with the appearance similar to thick, black oil.

The fear that struck my heart, that made it beat slower for a moment as the thick ice cold terror rapidly nestled itself into the muscle tissue, was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Originating from the beating center of my body, the cold tumbled and roared along every nerve in my body, moving into every cell, like a horrible, unexpected tsunami.

I only looked for a second before Max pulled me back, but it was enough to experience the blackness inhabited by the most powerful alien to walk my planet. It was enough to spot the entourage of aliens following him.

That second was enough time to see him kill.

Even though there was no way to know if Command had been responsible for the unsuspected man at the other side of the corridor dropping dead in an instant - since Command had been nowhere close to the man - my gut told me the most probable truth.

Command had simply looked at the man and he had died.

My throat constricted and I found myself without air right around the time Max pulled me back.

Max's eyes caught mine and they told me... nothing. His eyes were blank.

But his mind told me plenty. _Remember, he can control your mind, your organs. He can make your lungs stop breathing and your heart stop beating. So yes, he'll kill you with a look. Easily._

The fear was too much. I swayed. How the hell had the resistance ever believed that they had an inkling of a shot at conquering Command? How had they ever believed that _Max and I_ would conquer him?!

 _We're dead,_ my mind stated as matter-of-factly as if it had been carved into stone.

In the midst of my fear, I felt stupid. How could I had been so stupid to think that we ever had a chance?! How did I ever let anyone talk me into this?

 _But we can block him,_ Max told me then, keeping my eyes locked with his. His emotionless, hard eyes. He had gone into survival mode. Into fight mode. _We have to._

I looked at Isabel. Isabel, who now seemed more vulnerable than me despite her being an alien while I was a defenseless human being. Obviously it didn't matter that you were an alien, since the man I had just seen Command kill had been an alien.

 _Never look the mayor in the eyes,_ Max told me then and a memory of the red-haired mayor flashed before my inner eye. Max had told me the same thing at the meeting.

My eyes were trained on Isabel, who was scanning her surroundings - perhaps looking for a way out - while my mind asked Max, _Why?_

 _Because he can do what Command can do, as long as he has eye contact._ Max paused, making me look back at him. His eyes softened with fear, his pupils so large they nearly obliterated the beautiful amber of his irises. _And the mayor has a bad streak of cat-like behavior._

I frowned, mumbling my incomprehension to myself rather than through the connection, What?

But Max heard me anyway, already prepared to provide me with a clarification.

 _He likes to play, like a cat does with its prey. He'll kill you for his own sinister pleasure, rather than just kill you. He'll like to torture you first. You saw how Command just killed that man?_

Silently, I nodded.

Max's lips were thin as he pressed them tightly together. _That was a good way to die. Quick._

I was so scared by now that I could barely stand. But adrenaline was pumping into my blood so quickly, threatening to beat my heart out of my chest, that I knew my survival instinct would soon be taking over. By now, I had been in enough life and death situations to know how I would react. My body would push my fear to the side in order to survive. In order to clear my mind and enable me to make quick decisions.

Right now, I was longing for it. I felt like if I had to suffer this fear for any longer, I would be engulfed by it and probably die of fear before Command - or the mayor - even had a chance to get to kill me themselves.

 _You have to focus on me. On our connection._

I looked up at him. Traced the dark shadows across his facial features. Traced the curves of his lips, the darkness of his long eyelashes, the dark stubble across the lower part of his face.

This might be it. This might be the end. My stomach tightened.

I had a horrible feeling that this actually _was_ the end. That we were going to die.

 _Stop thinking like that,_ Max basically ordered me. But his tone was soft, his eyes sad.

Everything in me tightened with painful grief when he reached out and gently cradled my face in his warm hands before bending his head down and bringing our lips together.

Vaguely, I was aware of the tears slowly running down my cheeks as the noise from our surroundings dimmed and my sole focus came down to the feel of his lips, the pressure of his kiss, the warmth of his love.

He drank my sniffles, my fear, my increasing feeling of an impending disaster, and I tried to memorize the exact texture and feel of his lips and the warmth of his skin, the way his hands touched me, because it might be the last time.

Slowly, he pulled back and the sounds around us intensified, painfully hauling me back to reality.

He held my eyes for a long second, his thumb brushing familiarly across my cheek, collecting some silent tears, before he turned towards Isabel and in a loud hushed voice ordered, "You know what to do, Iz."

A shiver tightened my chest and I looked over at Isabel. There were no tears on her face, but still it looked as if she was crying. She looked torn, her body stiff, telling us without words that she simultaneously wanted to leave while desperately wanting to stay.

In response to Max's order, she slowly nodded and closed the meager distance between her and us. Her body was warm, just like her brother's, when she abruptly pulled me into a hug. I imagined that I could feel her heart beat harshly in her chest as our upper bodies pressed together in that tight embrace.

"Look after my brother," she whispered in my ear. She sounded strong and determined, even when her voice was breaking with roughness.

I was confused. Which is the feeling I transmitted to her when she pulled back with a small smile on her lips. Maybe it was intended to be a smile of encouragement, but all I read on her face was _Goodbye_.

When she pulled her brother into a similar - albeit longer - hug, a single tear rolled down her cheek. When she let him go, her stance was stoic, her head held high. With flushed cheeks and wet eyes, she took one final look at us before she turned and walked in the opposite direction. Numbly, I watched her step through the bent bars of the gate and disappear into the darkness of the corridor that Tess had prevented me from entering earlier.

I jumped as Max's fingers carefully linked with mine. His mouth twitched in the beginning of an attempted smile when I looked at him, his eyes more intense than I had ever seen them.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice thick with emotions. "I've always loved you and I will never stop."

This was the end.

My eyes stung with the overload of unshed salty tears as I whispered back, "I love you. Forever."

He pulled on my hand, pulling me into his side and the protective field was switched on, encasing us in a sheltering bubble.

"Let's kill that bastard," he mumbled.

My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow, still I made a hopeless attempt before we stepped out into the corridor, right in front of Command and his men.

It was like my heart froze with fear when Command spotted us.

Without a single hand gesture, without a spoken command, his group of alien followers came to an eerily synchronized halt.

The lights flickered above us.

The corridor was wide, about 15 feet, and Command with his escorts completely filled its width.

One of the lights went out. Died without drama. Simply died. Like the man I had just watched Command kill. He was on the floor now. With unblinking eyes and an unmoving body.

I returned my focus to the group of enemies in front of us. At least 20 pairs of empty eyes were staring at us, the owners of those eyes unnaturally still.

When I was eight years old, my parents had taken me to Las Vegas. We had watched flamingos, lions, gone up to the top of the Stratosphere and stuffed our faces at the numerous buffets.

We had also visited Madame Tussaud's wax museum. I had nightmares for weeks after that. Nightmares about the freakishly real-looking wax dolls coming to life and running after me. About them trying to hurt me.

It was like being back at that museum. With the wax dolls staring at me with their dead eyes.

This time my mom wouldn't come running into my room and save me from my nightmares by simply waking me up. This time the wax dolls could actually hurt me. Because this wasn't figments of my imagination. And my mom was dead.

Everything was on pause. I noticed the mayor in that group of silent individuals, but I refrained from looking at him directly. Their faces were like blank slates, but I had a feeling we must have surprised them. They had, after all, been looking for us just as much as we had been looking for them.

Which is why I naturally assumed that there would be a confrontation of the verbal kind. That Command would announce our arrival in some manner, like the evil guys always did in movies. That classic announcement would be followed by a conversation of some kind, where time would drag out so that the good guys (who were not yet in the scene) would have time to catch up and think out a plan to save the main characters.

But Command was nothing like a villain from a movie. Instead of warming us up to the danger we were facing, he figuratively hit the 'Play'-button after only a couple of moments. Without a single word or facial expression, the group of frightening aliens raised their arms and fired at us in unison.

Our protective field took it all. I felt the blasts reverberate through our bodies in strong waves. Like how you could feel low frequency sounds vibrate through every cell of your body. For a long minute, everything was white. Our field of vision was filled with the white energy blasts hitting the shimmering energy wall around us.

Keeping the wall up demanded immense energy and I could feel the connection thrumming between us, working on overload. I had no idea what Max was thinking or feeling, my concentration completely on keeping the protective field up and functioning. Even if I had focused on Max, to get a feeling of what was going on in his mind, I doubted it would work. The connection was completely in tune with protecting us, foregoing keeping the 'phone line' between our minds active.

A headache was creeping up the back of my head, increasing with every blinding flash of energy. The light was gnawing underneath the back of my eyelids, like stepping into bright sunlight from complete darkness over and over again.

I felt Max's intention rather than heard it. Our bodies were working like one, the raising of my arm mimicking his movement to a T. The collection of energy pulling from the center of my abdomen was ridiculously familiar by now. I had done it so many times during our practice rounds that it almost felt like second nature. As if I had actually been born an alien and had spent my whole life practicing energy blasts in my spare time, rather than being a human girl watching movies and learning how to ride a bicycle.

Our shots were fired blindly. We couldn't see anything. All we could do was fire in the direction from where the blasts originated. Our own blasts went through the protective barrier and disappeared into the white light.

It was impossible to hear much else than the loud buzzing, like the sound high voltage electricity lines would make. Maybe I heard a surprise cry or a yell at times, but I might just as well have imagined it.

With every blast fired at us being absorbed by our shimmering protective barrier, and every blast leaving our bodies out into the room, I was growing gradually calmer. Our energy was not waning as it had done previously, even in response to the strain the connection was under right now. We seemed invincible. United and strong.

The number of blasts fired at us seemed to steadily lessen, working to gradually strengthen my confidence.

It was working. It was actually working.

We might have a chance at this.

I almost smiled at the thought, hope infusing my body with warmth. A tickling thought creeped into my mind. I ignored it at first, focusing fully on collecting energy, bundling it up in my hand and releasing it into the corridor, but it soon became impossible to evade.

What if Command was already dead?

I swallowed back the hopeful feeling, worried that it might distract not only me but also Max. But it remained, lurking in the outskirts of my heart.

What if we had already won?

Then, as abruptly as the attack had begun, it stopped. Like turning off a light.

I blinked. And blinked. It took me a couple of seconds to get my pupils to adjust to the decreased amount of light, to be able to see anything else than the reflections of light still dancing across my retina.

I saw him right before Max did. When he did, his gasped _Fuck_ magnified the jump of fear made by my body when I found myself standing merely two feet from an alien.

His large bottomless black eyes were staring emptily into mine and I could see the blood vessels pulsate across his large conical-shaped brain. The groves along the sides of his face were as dark as his eyes, the edges moving rhythmically like the gills of a fish. There was no mouth where his thin lips had previously been. Instead there were two parallell lines going vertically up his chin, with holes going straight into the lower part of his face.

He was no longer hiding behind his human face, but there was no mistaking who was standing motionless in front of us. There was no mistaking the darkness around his body.

The sight of the monster in front of me made me almost pee my pants. I had not expected him to transform. I had not expected _anyone_ to transform, considering what Dresden had said about shapeshifting and physical transformations demanding energy. But of course, Command was not just anyone. He could obviously do whatever he wanted.

And right now he was trying to dig into our connection by staring at us. It could be likened to someone pushing a screwdriver into your brain through your eye. I fell backwards a step, Max's grip on my hand tightening while I simultaneously saw the shimmering field separating us from Command thicken. Command became less distinct through the condensing field and I felt the pain in my head ebb. Dimly, I heard Max through the connection telling me not to let Command freak me out; that it was all part of his plan to throw off my concentration.

Command's plan was a simple, but excellent, one. I hated the sight of him, still I couldn't take my eyes off him. Those empty eyes positioned in that thick reptilian-like skinned face with those flapping breathing holes made me wish I had never been born.

I wouldn't give up. I would fight until the end. But I would be lying to myself if I didn't admit that I was scared out of my wits.

My fear was legit; I could feel our strength weakening. Whatever Command was doing by staring at us was slowly tearing us down. I was fully aware that it might be because he was psyching us - or _me_ specifically - out by not looking human, making us lose our concentration and making us feel vulnerable. Effectively, making us lose faith in our own strength and capabilities.

Max was like a pillar of confidence next to me. I could feel it in the warmth brushing against my side, in the grip of his fingers around my hand and in the calmness through the connection. Either he wasn't afraid or he knew something that I didn't. Because I could see that we were losing this fight.

Behind Command I could see some fallen men - our blasts had hit some of them - but I spotted the mayor on his feet, staring at us, and he wasn't alone. In other words; even if we beat Command, we still had more men to fight.

But the lionesses were stepping back to give over the kill to the lion. It was as simple as that.

Command was becoming clearer as the field was thinning. Max's voice in my head was also becoming clearer, his whispered phrases of encouragement becoming increasingly desperate with every second.

It was all very still and quiet, almost surreal. Command was slowly weakening our protective field and gradually recommenced his attempts at getting into our connection while we were just standing there. No one was moving. The only movement I was aware of was the blinking of my own eyes and Max's occasional squeezes to my hand.

Max's order for me to shoot was not consciously obeyed. I felt my arm lift as if it had been possessed, my eyes never leaving Command's alien face with the gaping holes, while the energy collected in my stretched out hand. But the battery had run out of power. Command had challenged our connection to the brink of demolition.

I managed a weak energy blast, fired straight at Command, only strong enough to sting him. If it had actually hit him. Instead of at least harming him some, I watched it splash against an invisible wall in front of his face, like a big splash of white paint, before it disappeared.

Command had a protective field too. I shouldn't be surprised.

It happened too quickly after that. Our protective barrier blinked out, leaving us completely vulnerable. Before Max had a chance to reinstate the field, Command turned his head towards Max in an unnaturally quick manner and in that instant a shockwave went through my body and my heart stopped.

My hand brushed along Max's leg as I fell, automatically trying to stop my fall. But I had no strength to hold on.

My head hit the ground so heavily it should have hurt. But I felt nothing.

That last second extended into forever. My eyelids moved slowly as my eyes blinked. The concrete was cold and rough against my cheek. Max was already next to me, having fallen at the same time. His eyes were wet as they looked into mine, his mouth moving slightly in slow-motion. Maybe he said something. Maybe his mouth was just moving in a last breath.

In that last second I saw something go out in his eyes, like light fading.

Then the last second ran out and, with that, I died.


	114. ONE ONE FOUR

_Child of Dreams - Hopefully, this update will make you feel better. Thank you for leaving a comment :D_  
 _Madaya58 - More coming up. Thank you for dropping a comment :D_

* * *

 **ONE ONE FOUR**

I was running. My legs were short and clumsy, but fast. The wind caught in my loose long hair and the bright morning sun kissed my face.

My mouth was laughing. Long chains of pearly laughter.

I felt light. Carefree.

Mom's hair was warm reddish brown, the curls looking soft and inviting around her smiling face. She was holding her arms out, welcoming me into a hug, her legs bent to come down to my height.

I knew that she had been gone for several days. I couldn't remember where she had been. I just knew that I was over the moon delirious with happiness about her return.

"Come here, Lizzie," she encouraged me. As if I needed any encouragement.

My legs were hurting now. Stumbling. They were getting tired and felt heavy.

Mom seemed further away. I frowned at the realization, my laughter fading.

I inhaled sharply, the laughter dead now, and yelled, "No, Mommy! Don't go!", my four-year-old lungs aching for air.

My body was telling me to stop, but I couldn't. I needed to get to mom. I could make it. I _had_ _to_ make it.

"You can do it, honey," mom told me, her voice sounding far away, muffled. Through a fog I saw her warm smile shake and grow weaker.

She was even further away now, the distance between us growing like someone had zoomed a camera lens, making her shrink into the size of one of my Barbie dolls.

"I'm coming," I tried to yell, but I was panting too hard.

I fell, my knee hitting the graveled road, the small pebbles digging into my young flesh. The pain shot up my leg and radiated from the palms of my hands which I had used to try to stop my fall.

Tears instantly sprung up in my eyes, but I squeezed them back. My throat was thick with repressed pain as I turned my eyes upwards again, to search out my goal.

But she was barely visible.

The bright morning sun had disappeared behind a grey cloud, casting shadows and darkness over the ground below, while veils of fog were moving in around me. Cold rushed up over my arms and the pain in my knees and hands was rapidly forgotten while a feeling of loneliness and abandonment wrapped around me.

No. Wait.

It wasn't emotions sneaking up on me. It was dark creatures. Creatures with large bottomless black eyes, no mouth, and large heads. Creatures that looked like giants, with long bony fingers and large palms, with long legs and wide upper bodies.

They were coming from all directions, moving in on me in a slow circle.

Those tears that I had fought now flowed unhindered down my cheeks. I was so scared I didn't know what to do. How to breathe. How to move.

Instead I squeezed my eyes so tightly shut that it hurt, wishing them to go away.

 _Go away. Go away. Go away._

I felt the air around me get colder, chilling the skin of my bare arms and legs, and I knew that it was their presence that brought coldness. I just knew. Behind my closed eyes, the darkness became darker as I felt them around me and I brought my scraped palms up to my eyes to block out even more of what I might see through my thin closed eyelids.

That's when I felt a sliver of warmth behind me, near the back of my neck. My frantic heartbeat calmed in anticipation. I listened. Listened to whether that warmth had a sound.

My attention was so focused on that small area of heat that I didn't even jump when something touched me there. Because it was warm and soft.

It was him.

I held completely still as I felt the warmth spread around me, pushing away the coldness.

"Open your eyes, Lizzie," he whispered and my tears stilled, my heart steadied.

Warm hands were placed over the back of my hands and I let them gently remove the hard pressure from my eyes.

"We did it." His soft voice was music. Warm, comforting music.

So I opened my eyes and looked directly into golden brown eyes. A young face. A boy's face.

 _Him._

The rays of the morning sun was bouncing off his shoulders, off the contour of his head, making him look like an angel.

I squinted against the light.

A small smile crept onto his lips. "Come on." One of his hands encircled mine. "Let's find your mom."

I nodded, unable to let go of his eyes, and let him help me to my feet.

The skin felt tight over my knee and there was a sore sensation, but all I cared about while getting to my feet were my surroundings.

I know that I should have kept looking into his eyes, but my curiosity got the best of me. Scanning my perimeter, my heart flew into my throat when I realized that the creatures were not really gone. They were still standing around me, in an almost perfect circle.

Instinctively, my fingers tightened around his hand, before I saw that they weren't moving. They seemed frozen. Their eyes were frighteningly staring, unblinking. Their chests were barely moving with their indistinct breaths.

Before my watchful wide-opened gaze, they seemed to grow smaller. Their bodies were actually shrinking. They looked like balloon figures, where the air was slowly going out of them. The dark redness of their skin turned lighter and then more grayish, until their skin seemed to lose all color.

Their eyes remained the same size, making them look larger and larger with every shrinking inch of their bodies. My gaze got stuck on the eyes of one of the larger ones. There was something compelling about the lack of expression in that creature's eyes. Because in contrast to that emotionless gaze, I found myself imagining a building panic in those black holes. As if the immobilization stopped the creature from expressing his fear of what was happening.

And then his face, and the remains of his - now - small body, got scrunched up. Like a piece of paper. Before solidity left the body and the creatures around me simultaneously turned into a fine mist of dust.

My mouth fell open and I kept staring.

They had just... dissolved.

His voice brought my eyes back to his warm - and very human - face. "Let's find your mom."

I nodded, mutely. And with one final look at the dust piles surrounding me in a perfect circle, I followed the boy along the graveled road, careful to not step on any gray ash as I was stepping out of the circle.

When I deemed it to be safe enough, I lifted my eyes from the ground and looked straight ahead. Where my mom was, just as she had been previously. Like nothing had happened.

Arms outstretched. Crouching. Happiness and invitation on her face. Sunlight in her hair.

Clasping his hand tighter, I started running again, pulling him with me. My body was no longer tired. My steps were no longer clumsy. I felt myself grow while running. Felt my legs lose their baby fat, felt them elongate in the wind. Felt my arms grow longer, my waist narrow, my breast grow and become heavier.

With a surprised laugh, I looked down at myself before I looked over at him.

Max. 16-year-old Max.

His eyes were laughing at me, a pensive smile on his lips, as he watched me with something that could only be adoration.

When I practically fell into my mom's waiting arms, I was grown up, but I still cried like a little girl when I put my head on her shoulder and tightened my arms around her waist.

Her warmth was familiar and comforting. Max was still holding my hand and I knew he was watching me.

"I found you," I heard him say as I buried my face against my mom's throat.

The words made me pause. Triggered something. Like a far-away muted voice. A memory.

Then it was there. Like a sudden flash. As if I was transported into some other word. A darker place. With screams and fears. With pain and death.

I was on the ground, feeling life letting go of me, and I watched his mouth move.

"I will find you."

Those were his words. Those were the final words.

Just as abruptly, I was back to hugging mom. Back to morning sunlight. Back to comfort and safety.

The confusion was all-consuming and I slowly disentangled myself from my mother's hug. Pulling back, I looked at her face. Looked into her green eyes. Trying to make sense of the situation. Trying to remember.

The truth hit me like a cold hard sledgehammer, straight to my chest. "You died."

My whisper chilled even myself. Speaking it out loud made it more real.

Her eyes remained warm and familiar. She didn't seem fazed by my unusual announcement. Instead she simply agreed. "Yes."

The pieces were falling into place. Roughly and violently.

Slowly, I looked over at Max, whose face was open and calm. Serene, almost. I looked back at my mom.

My voice was small, like I once again was that four-year-old girl, when I asked, "Are we dead?"

Because what other reason was there to me standing in front of my dead mother right now?

Before she had a chance to answer, I continued, frightened now, "We are, aren't we? We died."

"Yes, you did," mom answered.

My breath caught in my throat. I wasn't necessarily frightened by the idea of being dead (now that I was), but there was something very off about this situation. Like I wasn't done.

"We died, but we're not dead," Max said then.

I frowned, before I turned my head slowly to look at him. As I did, the sun disappeared and the landscape morphed around me.

Frenzied fear, as though I was being chased by something, suddenly gripped me and my heart sped up. I took an unsteady step towards Max, while watching him evaporate.

"Noooo!" I screamed, instantly finding myself laying on my side, staring into Max's eyes. His still eyes, empty without life.

Panic came rushing painfully quickly and I immediately wanted to go back, return to the mysterious land of the dead. Because Max was dead. He was still dead. He was left in the land of the dead.

But right before fear managed to completely paralyze me, I noticed the faint white light shimmering above Max's motionless body, hugging the contours of his shape. Transfixed, I stared at it as it gradually filled in and became less translucent. I noticed the movements within the light, similar to how smoke would move like swirls.

The sight calmed me and focused my mind until my sharpened senses alerted me to myself and my own body.

Or lack thereof.

Because I was no longer a body. I lacked physical shape. I tried to move my hand in front of me to take a look at myself, but could only see white fog. Exactly like the light floating above Max's body. I tried to figure out how I could see, how I could think and feel, but I fell short of answers.

Instead, like some out-of-body experience I'd heard about in movies and on TV, I was floating above my own body, looking down at it. My real, physical body was not moving. My eyes were still open, but dried from the lack of blinking. For all intents and purposes, I was looking at my own dead body.

The white light over Max's body next to me moved closer to the fog I was apparently made of. With indescribable warmth, calmness and support spreading through me, the two sources of mist meshed and I felt him become a part of me.

I wanted to laugh, but didn't know how, when his voice was clearly bemused as he said, _Hi_.

His greeting was a part of me. I didn't hear him like a spoken phrase, not even in the same manner as we would normally communicate through the connection. Instead his voice was a part of me, with a lack of a better way to describe it.

I felt completely at peace and I knew then that the white lights were our energies - our souls - and they were meshing together. I felt the power it held and how it slowly made me stronger.

Ridiculously quickly, I - we - were buzzing with charged energy.

 _Hi_ , I replied, without having a clue as to how I did it, but it made me feel goofy, wanting to hug his physical body even though he - technically - was more part of me now than ever before.

 _Before you ask, I have no idea what's going on,_ Max told me.

His statements were like my own thoughts, without the sound of his voice. I missed not hearing his voice. I missed the dark timbre of his voice and the warmth he usually used when addressing me.

 _Are our souls being transported away together?_ I suggested.

Maybe, after having been connected and dying at the same time, our souls would leave our bodies at the same time and go wherever souls went. Maybe to heaven or some universal pool of souls where we might remain until we were reincarnated into another physical body. Or something.

 _Maybe,_ he mused. _But if so, why are we still here?_

In unison, we looked at our dead bodies on the ground and were hit with the oddity of such a sight, before we collectively scanned our place of death in some silent agreement that the answer to why we were still around would be found in our immediate environment.

There he was. There he still was. Command.

Time didn't make sense anymore. Time had ceased to be measurable. Events were happening both quickly and in slow motion around Max and I, simultaneously. Even though it felt as if I had been floating above my own body for several minutes, it might have just been seconds. Although Max and I had already exchanged several thoughts (or whatever it was called when there were no bodies with actual brains and thinking processes), I had a feeling that no significant time had actually passed.

With the clarity of details possibly experienced by a hummingbird - where your own actions and decisions moved quickly - we could follow everything in almost painful detail as the pace of the real world seemed to have slowed down. We watched the extremely slow rise of Command's chest as he filled it with air. We noticed the slow movements of the gills on his face, the small droplets of perspiration at the black openings. We observed every line of the vertically placed holes where a mouth should have been, and had time to see the blood pulsate deliberately and controlled in the blood vessels spread throughout his large brain.

Before, I hadn't seen the eyes of his alien face blink. I had believed there to be no eyelids, no means of blinking. But I realized now that his bottomless eyes had blinked too quickly for the human eye to pick up on. Now, Max and I watched as Command's eyes slowly closed like two sliding doors, eyelids coming in from the sides rather than from the top and bottom. It made him look even more reptilian.

I wish I hadn't seen it. I could have happily moved on to the afterlife or vanished into nothing without seeing that.

Arms slowly rising in front of him, stretching towards our physical bodies, Command's face was as dead as it always had been. There was no visible emotion at all about the fact that he had just taken two lives. Not even victory. Not even when we could see everything with precise detail.

There was nothing there.

His fingers were long and bony and there were six of them, consisting of four long fingers and two thumbs on each hand. There were no nails or knuckles, making his hands look like the hands of plastic dolls, although much less harmless. Excruciatingly leisurely, his fingers fanned out, making his hands look overwhelmingly large.

It was frightening to see him reach for us like that. The overprotective feeling that came over me was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I was afraid that he would hurt our bodies, which were incredibly defenseless without us inside. Which in itself was ridiculous, since I most likely would never return to that body. Nevertheless, the bond and affection towards my body was understandable. It was the only body I had ever known.

With his attention tuned in to our bodies, I wasn't prepared to feel him instead affect the form Max and I had become. His long fingers pointed towards the still bodies, we could _see_ as well as _feel_ the white light we consisted of attach to the tips of his fingers and start to get sucked into his hands.

The white smoke which was our current manifestation was forming into long tendrils at the tips of all of Command's twelve fingers, as if his hands were inhaling us. The area where our energy connected to Command felt ice-cold. The proximity to Command felt more like death than the form we were currently assuming.

We couldn't move away. We couldn't detach from Command. Our souls were trapped above our dead physical bodies and all we could do was watch as Command consumed us. Consumed our energies.

It felt like ages before Command made a movement, but it was probably just a few seconds. Slowly, he turned his hands, twisting the palms to face upwards. Equally slowly, those long fingers curled towards the centers of the palms, curving them like they were claws, accentuating tendons flexing at his exposed wrists. The eyelids unhurriedly moved over the black eyes, revealing a sheen of wetness to his gaze when they moved back.

It baffled us. Command looked...taken back. Blindsided. Shocked.

It was the most emotion I had ever seen from him. The most emotion Max had ever seen (and he had known Command his whole life).

With a snap, the multiple attachments of our combined energy to Command's fingertips were broken. Command continued to coil his long fingers into his hands, while he started to flex his arms at the elbows, pulling his hands closer to his shoulders before lowering them again.

He did this several times, like some odd imitation of showing off his muscles. Or lifting an invisible extremely heavy weight bar at the gym.

But his face told us otherwise. Even with the lack of a mouth and the lack of the redness from flushing blood underneath that thick reptilian skin, there was no mistaken that Command was in pain.

His eyes blinked more often. So often so that we became convinced it would have been obvious even to the human eye. The openings on his face, where he transported oxygen into his body, were closing and opening with increasing frequency, as if he was hyperventilating. The long fingers seemed to stiffen, him not moving them much anymore. The same thing seemed to happen up his arms, making the flexing and extending movements subside.

With widening eyes, he took a step back from our bodies, his body movements inflexible and unnatural. Almost like a robot.

We could solely observe as he continued in this manner away from our bodies. One rigid step after the other, looking like he was going to trip over his own feet at any moment. He almost tumbled into his men, who had been standing some distance behind, as he continued to stumble backwards, his eyes large and empty, staring at our bodies as if they had wronged him somehow. Betrayed him. As if he had been playing with a kitten and then been shocked when it suddenly bit him.

His men looked equally confused, even more so, witnessing their leader stumble uncharacteristically towards them. Some stepped out of the way when he came close, the ones that didn't move were bumped out of the way by Command's lack of control over his own body.

Command was parting the sea of his men with his stiffened body, his uncontrolled gait, his hands and arms frozen in claw-like formation. Reaching the center of his army, he turned, almost fell, took one step with his back towards us, before he crumbled.

When he did, Max and I felt the tickling of electricity build. We were quickly gaining power, being charged, building up to something. While Command's mob stared at their chief hitting the ground, his skin turning increasingly translucent and the small jerky movements of his gradually fossilized body dwindling, we felt the energy reach almost painful levels.

Our enemies' focus was still on their dying leader when the first shockwave was released from our floating pool of energy. With the rhythm and force of a powerful heartbeat, shockwaves continued to throb out of our combined souls, hitting everything in that corridor.

Lub-dub.

The first shockwave pulverized the already dying body of Command and sent his alliance to the ground. Some fell like a ton of bricks, some dipped to their knees. We saw the fear on their faces, the disorientation, before the next shockwave hit them, sending them all to the floor.

Lub-dub.

The third and fourth shockwave had some of them clenching their heads between their hands, screaming in pain, while others curled up into balls, crying.

Lub-dub.

The final two shockwaves killed a handful of them, turning them either into dust or ceasing their breathing and stilling the blinking of their eyes.

Those final shockwaves moved through our own dead bodies, lifting them off the floor, similar to how a persons chest would lift when defibrillated with a defibrillator when the heart had stopped beating, before they dropped back down between the two shockwaves. Two hits. Two lifts.

The whimpers of the ones that remained alive bounced off the concrete walls, echoing eerily along the corridors. If I had skin, I would have shivered and my body would be covered in goosebumps.

Instead I, along with Max, was filled with a deep sense of calmness and serenity. The buzzing of electricity all around us simmered down. I had a moment to consider that this was the end - that we had completed our mission and that we would be leaving life on Earth now - before the buzzing began to build up again. This time it built to such magnitude that a loud hissing sound broke out, interrupting the whimpering of the men on the ground.

The intense build-up ended with a pop. Like our energy field had been short-circuited. It blinded us for a moment before being overwhelmed by a sensation of falling. Like the hypnic jerk when falling asleep.

My first sensation was heaviness, followed by warmth and a widespread tingle. I became aware of having substance, of the cold ground pressing up against me, a hard beating sensation.

My vision was returning and on reflex, I blinked. The action made me suck in a deep breath, expanding my chest against the relenting surface it was resting on.

I could breathe. I was blinking.

I coughed.

My eyes did not only feel gritty but filled with loads and loads of sand. I blinked again. And again. I tried to move my arm, tried to lick my cracked lips, took another deep breath. Another cough.

Then my vision grew clear and focused on Max. Who was lying next to me. Who was blinking, just like me. Who was slowly and trembling moving his arm towards mine.

Who was alive.

With one monumental effort, I managed to move my arm upwards, meeting him halfway. His fingers weakly clamped over the back of my hand and if my eyes had not been so dry, I would have cried.

His warm eyes looked deeply into mine and a small smile played in the left corner of his mouth as he shakily squeezed my hand.

We were back.


	115. ONE ONE FIVE

_Child of Dreams - Thank you :-)_  
 _Madaya58 - I'm so sorry to hear that you are afflicted with migraines. I've never had one myself, but I know of enough friends that are completely knocked out by them, so I completely understand that you are unable to sit and read off a computer screen at that time. Thank you so so sooo much for the feedback. It means so much to me and I'm so happy that I can brighten your day a bit. Thank you!_

* * *

 **ONE ONE FIVE**

There was little time to react. We were still exposed. Maybe even still in danger. Yet, it was difficult to get your body to function when you had just been dead.

The most prominent feeling was relief. Relief that we were alive. That Command - even though we still had no explanation as to how - seemed to be dead. That overwhelming feeling of relief, mixed with small tinges of tentative hope, was making it difficult to let the panic of a possible dangerous situation back in. Instead of facing reality, I wanted to keep looking at Max, keep feeling his hand around mine, keep feeling his warmth through our connection and through our touching skin.

Yes, the connection was still up and running. It had simmered down, moving from hurricane levels to a gentle breeze, but it was still there. Even with the lack of its previous intensity, the connection seemed clearer and more focused than it had ever been before. It was with an indescribable ease that I could hear Max's thoughts and experience his emotions. I didn't have to concentrate on his mind to listen. I didn't have to put energy into sifting through relevant and less relevant thoughts. His thoughts were as much a part of me as my own thoughts, in the same manner that my own thoughts needed no effort to be heard or be acknowledged.

For the first time since the death of my mother, I felt at peace. Maybe even for the first time ever. At least for as far back as I could recall.

Max was surrounded by the beautiful color spectrum saturating his aura. I had only seen it previously at our most intimate moments, but now I could visualize it without trying. Much like how Max's healing ability always had enabled him to see people's auras. We both had a feeling that this could signify a common access to Max's abilities. What was once his, was now mine. Everything he had once learnt and practiced had automatically become rooted in me.

In other words, discounting my genetic makeup, I had essentially been reborn a hybrid. I was still very much human (with some added quirks, of course), but connecting not only my mind but also my soul to Max had given me that alien touch that shouldn't be possible for a human to acquire.

We had only been outside of the physical confinements of our bodies for a couple of minutes, but still we were struggling to get used to the heaviness of them. And before we had a chance to pull ourselves together, quite literally, one of our enemies had approached us. One from Command's clan.

Max lifted his head off the floor, directing his eyes at the approaching man, and was just about to defend us against whatever threat this man posed, when the man in question hurriedly threw his hands up in front of him. Surprisingly, the man's hand gesture was one of surrender instead of the anticipated attack, making Max pause even as we were both instantly pumped with adrenaline and poised to shoot.

"Whoa whoa," the man warned breathlessly. He was limping, blood drying underneath one of his nostrils, his eyes glistening with latent shock. "Don't."

"State your purpose!" Max barked, his harsh tone putting me even more on edge. He was staring the man down like a guard dog would stare at a trespasser seconds before attacking.

The man flinched at Max's snarl, obviously being fully aware of what Max and I had just put him through. There was a slight tremble to his voice when he quickly answered, "You should get out of here. We are not the only ones here. More will be arriving soon."

I looked from the man's shaken facial expression to Max, whose face was tightening with guarded anger. "Why are you telling us this?"

The question on both of our minds was clear, _Why is one of Command's men warning us?_

Momentary confusion passed across the man's face and he hesitated for a second before replying thinly, "I'm not sure. I feel…" He looked behind him, at his companions. Max and I followed his gaze to the rest of Command's men.

The group that had previously constituted Command's battalion was a disturbing mix of damaged individuals. Less than 20% of them was on their feet, another handful were lying on the ground writhing in residual pain, and the rest were either dead (judging by their immobility) or reduced to ashes. Obviously, the ones to be concerned about were the ones on their feet, but even those men looked both beaten and resigned. Some seemed utterly defeated, as if the will to live had completely left them. Others were keenly focused on what was happening between us and one of their own, while a couple appeared suspicious.

There was dirt in the man's blond hair when he turned to face us. He was neatly shaven, making the dirt on his face stand out. His light eyes flickered with confusion between us, before he settled on Max's face. "I feel different. At peace." He frowned and I was aware of the matching frown on my own face. "For the first time in…" He shook his head slowly, as if he couldn't quite understand what he was feeling or thinking.

"The anger," he continued. "It was consuming…"

I looked to Max, squeezing his hand. This man seemed confused, but his original message had been clear.

 _Move!_

So that's what we needed to do. We needed answers. We knew a lot more about our connection than the assortment of enemies in front of us, but we didn't know the details to what had just happened. The connection had produced shockwaves of energy that had not only killed Command but had gone through his men, affecting them somehow. The confused man babbling in front of us was proof that something big had happened.

But we couldn't stay. The stranger's first impulse had been to warn us and my gut was telling me to go with his first impulse.

Max met my eyes, his thoughts already matching mine. We didn't need words any longer.

The man instantly grew quiet as Max and I, without a word and in perfect unison, started to get up from the ground, our hands never separating.

Once standing, albeit on wobbly legs, Max pulled me into his side and pressed a kiss to my temple. Through the connection I could see what he was seeing. His eyes were firmly set on the man and the rest of Command's guys even when his lips lingered against my skin. We had every right to distrust them.

I pressed my fingers tightly around Max's hand, allowing my eyes to close as I reveled in the feel of Max against me. I felt safe, knowing that we were stronger than ever. Stronger than Command.

And that was something.

Max's lips left my skin and in a raised voice he evenly told Command's former-men and the distracted messenger before us, "Our fight was with Command. He is dead. We are going to leave now. I recommend you to not interfere with our decision."

I opened my eyes to look at the men, seeing the clear ramification of Max's warning in their bloodied expressions. They stood still, their faces wearing different shades of fear. They knew very well what it might mean to mess with us. They had just witnessed us kill their fearless and powerful leader. A leader they probably had believed to be indestructible merely minutes ago.

The man closest to us nodded without a word, silently sending us off, and Max didn't wait another second before tugging on my hand and turning us towards the tunnel where Isabel had disappeared earlier. Together, we ran towards the melted remains of the gate, our legs strong, muscles pumping with adrenaline.

Our thoughts were jumbled, but aligned along the same lines.

Where would we go? Other than us, was there anyone left of the rebellion?

Had Isabel survived? Where was she?

Were we the sole survivors?

Stepping through the gate that had once separated me from Max and his sister, Max froze and immediately pulled us to the side, guiding me to flush my body to the wall, hiding us from sight from the intersecting tunnel.

He had heard something. Something I had not picked up on except through his mind.

Footsteps.

Max pressed his index finger to his lips in the universal sign of 'Quiet', in spite of our mental communication rendering the action redundant. It would take some time to get used to the current well-oiled state of our connection.

My heart was hammering in my chest, the fear clogging my throat. Being hunted by Command had been horrible, but lacking a purpose or plan was right up there with it. We didn't know what to expect any longer. In a way, neither Max nor I had truly believed that we would be able to defeat Command, hence we had never envisioned a world without Command. We hadn't believed we would get this far.

Hastily rounding the corner, entering our tunnel, was the leader of the rebellion.

James Dresden.

Who, according to Isabel, had been killed hours ago.

He didn't see us at first. We remained frozen in shock and surprise as he continued past us. Max had time to think of the possibility of shapeshifting - of someone portraying Dresden - before Dresden turned his head and spotted us.

There was a flicker of surprise, quickly followed by relief, in his eyes and his mouth naturally opened as if to say something. But something stopped him, his gaze flittering between our faces.

Without us having to ask, he refuted our suspicions of him being an imposter by saying, "You're both parims, pure souls of goodness." A fact that not many people knew and something that (hopefully) our enemies were not aware of.

Max's body softened next to me as he relaxed and the adrenaline drained out of me so rapidly that my knees started to tremble. Max snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me into the comfort of his warm body again, supporting my weight.

Dresden's face softened as he turned to face us full on, "I'm extremely relieved to come across you."

"Command is dead," Max said without preamble, his voice lacking emotion.

Dresden didn't look surprised. His lack of reaction surprised Max and I instead.

"I suspected something like that might have happened," Dresden said, giving us a small smile. Like the smile of a proud father. Squinting his eyes slightly, his expression turned curious. "How did you do it?"

"Wait," I interrupted. "How did you know that something had happened?"

His answered was matter-of-fact, bordering on deadpanned, "The shift in energy."

"The shift in…" Max repeated in a mumble.

"I think everyone felt it. Everyone down here, at least."

 _The shockwaves?_ I asked Max. Or maybe Max asked me. I wasn't sure anymore.

"We will discuss this in more depth later," Dresden stated firmly. "But now, we need your help."

A wave of coldness rushed through me. I couldn't explain why, but the ominous feeling was strong. The danger was still not over.

"Where is she?" Max asked, barely contained stress in his voice, sending my heart into my trembling knees.

Her face flashed before my eyes, portrayed by Max's suspicion as to what Dresden needed help with. He just knew. Max just knew that something had happened to his sister.

"It's your sister," Dresden confirmed, but sent Max for a spin when he added, "But your father is worse off."

 _Dad?_

Max's thought echoed through my head and his sudden fear sent strength into my knees, straightening my body.

Max's father was alive?

Max's shock fueled me with courage and in an instant our roles were reversed. My body was now supporting his and with a firm look at Dresden, I took commando, "Where are they?"

Dresden gave me a short respectful nod. "Follow me."

We didn't have to walk very far. They were just down the next corridor. All of them.

Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

I pulled in a ragged shocked breath at the sight and I heard Max do the same. I wanted to cry of happiness, but my disbelief subdued my reaction. As a result, my feet broke my determined stride for only a second before we continued in Dresden's footsteps.

I had trouble trusting my eyes when I looked at the group I was quickly approaching. Michael was standing at the edge of the group, wearing his most guarded expression, making him look frighteningly intimidating. I briefly noted that there was something different about him, but that observation was mostly Max's, who was used to the regular color spectrum of Michael's aura and seeing that it was not what it used to be. I noticed the stiffness of Michael's body and the vibrant green and red in his aura, but I was too new at reading auras to know that it was different. All I could tell was that, despite the dried blood on him, he wasn't injured.

He was just different.

With that conclusion in mind, my gaze quickly moved to scan the rest of the party. I held my breath as my eyes moved over Maria and my father. The emotion at seeing them alive, after being close to wholly convinced that they had been killed, was too overwhelming to process right then. It had my gaze quickly move on to the rest of the group to avoid a personal breakdown. I looked at Isabel, who was standing up and looked fine at a glance, but whose aura was all wrong. I looked at Max's father, who was seated, propped up against a wall. His deteriorating condition was visible to anyone, with or without the ability to read auras.

With Max's concentration completely on assessing his father's condition by going through his aura at a distance, I was distracted from the moment when Maria's head turned and she spotted me. My attempts at keeping my cool and preventing myself from breaking down were ripped away from beneath my feet like a rug when Maria broke from the group and took off running towards me.

I missed the seconds it took for her to close the distance between us, distracted by having seen her arm stretched out behind her just before separating from the group, seeing it separating from Michael's hand, before she was wrapping her arms around me.

Had Maria been holding hands with Michael? What? Why? How?

Then her warmth enveloped me, her familiar smell reached my nose, and the warmth from her blushed cheek pressed up against mine brought out the tears in my eyes.

I didn't intend to let go of Max's hand, but he was still moving towards his dad while I was being brought to a stop by Maria. My heart twisted at the feel of his hand leaving mine. He had been my only pillar, my only strength, for so many hours. So much had happened that was only between us, that only we had gone through, that suddenly interacting with other people felt surreal.

"Are you okay?" Maria asked into my ear. She was anxious, her voice hurried and breathless.

I hugged her tighter, while my eyes were fixed on Max and his father. Max touched Isabel's hand - a brief greeting and a physical check of her health status - before falling to his knees next to his slumped over father.

"I'm okay," I told my best friend, wondering if I was lying or not.

The warmth from Maria's very real and alive body was comforting, like a soft blanket over my traumatized soul.

I pressed my nose into the curve of her neck and let my eyes close for a second, my mind documenting what Max was doing a couple of feet away, but my immediate focus was on my friend.

"Are _you_ okay?" I asked her. I sounded stronger than I felt, my voice not trembling once.

"Considering the circumstances, yes," Maria replied and she gave another tight squeeze before she loosened her grip and stepped back, giving me the opportunity to thoroughly look her over.

I ignored the beautiful green around her shape, her aura that was almost identical to the green of her eyes, and instead looked at what I knew. The redness to her cheeks, a healthy addition to an otherwise pale face. The light color of her hair, which oddly enough looked relatively clean, although tangled and - quite frankly - a mess. Her clothes looked whole. _She_ looked whole.

But looking closely at her face, I knew that she was changed. She didn't look older, per se, but _experienced_. This Maria had lived through things not many girls her age had and it had me realize that the version of Maria I had said goodbye to previously didn't exist anymore.

Looking deeply into her eyes, I needed to tell her that, "He's dead, Ria. Command's dead. We killed him. Max and I." The words were tumbling out of me. I needed to talk. I really needed to vent. Maybe it would help me make sense of what had happened. "We're not really sure on the details of how we did it, but we did. He's gone."

One tear fell from her eye, quickly followed by another. Her lips squeezed together and her voice was garbled with restrained emotions as she took both of my hands in hers, squeezed them tightly and told me, "Good."

Tears were tumbling down my own cheeks now and I nodded mutely. She started smiling, repeating the word with more lightness, "Good," which had a light laugh escape me and soon we were hugging again.

"You're fucking amazing, you know that?" Maria whispered in my ear. "The human girl who killed the alien monster. Kicked his ugly ass. Sayonara'd his ass off this planet." She squeezed me tightly again. "Fucking amazing. Best human being ever."

I laughed, her words giving me a lightness I hadn't felt since floating in the form of energy above my body.

But at the same time, I knew I was needed elsewhere. The longing to speak to my lifetime friend was really strong, but I was also seeing what Max was seeing and experiencing what he was experiencing. He didn't even have to tell me in words that I was needed, I just knew.

The laughter ebbed into a bittersweet smile of regret as I gently pushed out of Maria's arms. "I need to help Isabel."

She nodded. "Of course."

I narrowed my eyes at her, the smile lingering on my lips, as I added, "But we have a lot to talk about later. Starting with what's going on with you and Michael."

The instant blush on her cheeks accompanied by the guilty mortification in her suddenly widened eyes confirmed my suspicions.

Something had happened between her and Michael.

But even though I was desperate to find out what, my whole being was pulling me towards Isabel.

Maria walked next to me, casting a subtle glance in Michael's direction (not missed by me) as we passed him.

Then there was dad. Dad with tears in his eyes. With love and relief pulsating off his body in waves. Dad with his beautiful shimmering colors. Dad like I had never seen him before.

He opened his arms for me and I melted into his embrace like the young girl I had once been. His familiar smell enveloped me as he placed one hand to the back of my head and gently stroke my hair. The same way he had comforted me when I was little.

And I broke.

The wall of strength I had been trying to keep up tumbled like bricks. I burrowed my face into his dusty shirt and cried. I heard his sobs and sniffles echo into my ear interspersed between his mumbled, "Baby girl, my sweet baby girl," and "Lizzie bear," and "Ella, beautiful Ella".

I hid in his arms for a minute or two and no one disturbed us. No interruptions. Only dad and I. Eventually, I pulled back, that pressing need to help Isabel banging on my awareness. I looked up at my father's wet face, his red eyes, his content smile, and returned his smile while wiping the tears off my face with my dirty hands.

"I love you, dad," I told him, sniffling.

He gave me another hug, hugging me close. "Love you too, baby girl."

I rested there for another second before regretfully pulling back, mustering up a brave smile.

He looked so incredibly proud of me that I was very close to breaking down again.

Instead I collected myself, took a deep breath and turned to Isabel.

Isabel looked embarrassed, like she had done something really wrong and was deeply ashamed about it. As if she wanted to sink through the floor.

With Max's complete attention on his father - who was looking a lot better already - I was on my own. I stopped in front of Isabel, her physical height no longer making me feel small. I felt calm and assertive, like I had assessed people's physical health my whole life. I finally had the tools to make a difference.

Still, I was unsure how to start. I resorted to a modest, "Hi".

Her face was paler than usual and she appeared uncomfortable about meeting my gaze as she quietly replied, "Hi."

On instinct, I reached out and carefully took her hand. It was cold and damp. Heavy and limp. I squeezed it, trying to provide her with some warmth and support. "What happened?"

While she searched for an answer, her body fidgeting restlessly and her gaze moving everywhere and nowhere, I tried to analyze her aura. I tried to figure out the color spectrum, how much the different colors blended into one another, the color intensities, if there was an unbalance between the colors, if one was overtaking. There was so much going on in her aura, it threatened to throw my newfound confidence straight out the window.

"I tried to kill myself."

Her aura instantly forgotten, I looked up at her in shocked surprise. All I could produce was a sputtered, "Wh-wh-what?"

She hesitated for a second before answering, "I wouldn't let them catch me. Torture me. Rob me of my abilities. Brainwash me."

She pulled her hand out of mine with a sharp tug and wrapped both of her arms defensively around her middle while taking a step back from me. Her face turned to stone.

"I would rather die than live in a society where Command would continue his empire, torture humans, and where I would have no family."

Isabel was squeezing her lips so tightly together they were turning white. I could see the blue explode in her aura around her eyes and Max's knowledge at the back of my mind hinted to me that it was grief. She was holding back tears.

It was easy to put one and one together. "You saw us die."

Isabel must have stuck around after she had bid us farewell.

She must have seen Command's unit attack our force field. She would have watched us retaliate and had maybe even for a brief moment gained the same hope as I had at that time; that we might not be on the losing team.

Next she would have seen Command approach us, walking like some indestructible life force amongst energy blasts, shielded behind his own invisible protective field. She would have witnessed the fight abruptly die out and finally behold our attempt at attacking Command just seconds before seeing us fall.

With us dead, there was nothing left for Isabel to live for.

Isabel nodded, expression hard-set. "That was my backup plan. Ever since they killed mom. I just never told anyone about it."

I could see how much pain she was in. Not just in her aura, but in the defensive language of her body and in how she was trembling slightly while trying to keep her emotions in check.

I swallowed, asking worriedly, "How did you hurt yourself?"

She looked me straight in the eyes, before sighing and loosening the grip of her arms around her middle. I followed her movements intently as she started to roll up her sleeves, showing cuts to her wrists.

"The typical human suicide attempt," she mumbled.

I carefully wrapped my right hand around the middle of her left arm, bringing the wounds closer for more detailed inspection. I tried to adopt the professional and assertive examination mode Max always displayed. The one most physicians adopted. But looking at the deep cuts, running parallel with the veins in order to open them up in the most effective method of phlebotomy, I soon realized that I was still very sensitive to the sight of blood.

I swallowed.

Isabel continued, "I managed to stop the bleeding myself and remove most of the blood, but I can't heal the cuts."

I swallowed again, feeling clammy. I was unable to stop staring at the cuts.

My throat was dry, making my voice raspy as I whispered, "What stopped you?"

Why was she alive? From the mental medical library Max's mind provided me with, I knew that slitting ones wrists was an extremely slow way to die, but Isabel had gone deep. She must have used her ability to burn holes into the arm, which would explain why the skin looked melted at the edges. I was suddenly afraid to turn her arm over. Afraid to see if she had burned through the whole thickness of her arm. Afraid to discover that there was a gaping wound at the other side of her arm.

Another dry swallow.

Isabel must have at least reached the deeper positioned arteries which would make her bleed out faster.

"Michael," Isabel answered quietly.

I looked up at her, connecting the dots in my head, before looking at Michael who was watching us from a distance. Maria was standing next to him. She wasn't touching him, but they were standing so close it almost looked like they were.

"I thought I was hallucinating from the blood loss when they walked out around me. All of them."

I looked back at Isabel, catching her disbelieving shake of the head at the memory. "I mean, I had _seen them_ get killed."

Directing my gaze back to Isabel's wounds, I mumbled, "Tess."

"Yes," Isabel replied tightly. "That's the only explanation. She must have been close by, mind warping me into believing I was alone."

 _Making you believe that your friends and family had been killed_ , I thought.

I was glad Tess was gone. For everyone's sake.

With that, I put my hand over the deep burnt wounds in Isabel's left arm.

She tugged on her arm, trying to pull back. "What are you doing?"

I caught her perplexed and mildly panicked eyes. "Healing you."

Based on her reaction, I was almost expecting her to laugh in my face. Instead she looked bewildered, furrowing her forehead, and asked incredulously, " _You_ are going to heal me?"

Finding that voice of self-confidence again, I replied stoically, "Yes."

She searched my face. "I can wait for Max to-"

"Max will be low on energy after healing your dad," I interrupted, adding some authority to my voice for good measure.

"She brought Max back from the dead earlier," Maria informed. Isabel and I turned to look at her in unison. "I'm sure she can heal some cuts."

Isabel and I looked at each other, neither saying a word. Then the air went out of Isabel with a resigned sigh. "Fine."

My heart struck an extra beat of nervousness. The vote of confidence from Maria had both strengthen my confidence but also added more pressure, more expectations. There was the risk that me healing Max earlier had only been possible because he was Max and we were connected. That might not be the case when healing someone outside of our connection.

I guess there was only one way to find out.

"Try not to leave any scars," Isabel grumbled.

I glanced up at her, trying to work out if she was joking or not, but she was too focused on my hands for me to be able to read her face.

Without further ado, I gently placed my palm against the wound and went to work.


	116. ONE ONE SIX

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* * *

 **ONE ONE SIX**

To call me an expert would be an outright lie. Even with full access to Max's vault of experience and knowledge, it was not as if it was a simple process to heal. To make matters slightly more tricky, Max's preoccupation with healing his father meant that it was more difficult for me to find the information in his mind that I needed. As if his mind was a server and there was a higher risk of it becoming overloaded with two users instead of one.

Looking at the wounds running along Isabel's arms I tried to convince myself that they were simple wounds. Compared to the large hole I had managed to heal in Max's abdomen, this was nothing. Should be as easy as pie.

That's when something occurred to me. Connections. I probably needed to form a connection with Isabel to be able to heal such large wounds. When healing Max, the connection had already been there.

I grimaced, the expression being hid from Isabel's eyes by my downturned face.

 _How do you form a connection?!_

"Um," I mumbled, glancing up at Isabel.

Her eyes were shining with tears, making her look even more beautiful than usual. But even overwhelmed by her emotions, she looked calm. There was admirable assurance in her gaze and she was holding my gaze without blinking.

As if she had easily figured out what my hurdle was, she told me evenly, "Just look into my eyes. I'll form the connection."

I just barely resisted letting out a big sigh of relief, but from the small amused curving to Isabel's smile, she knew how much her assistance meant to me.

I had a second to ponder what being inside Isabel's mind might be like before the connection sprung open and there was...nothing.

Isabel had a block up. A block around her mind. I had access to her whole body, the physical aspect of it, while her thoughts, feelings and memories were concealed. I considered putting my own block up. Maybe that was what aliens normally did. Actually, that _was_ probably what aliens normally did. Maybe it was the polite thing to do. But even as I was thinking it, I wondered if I would be as adept at healing if I had a block up.

"Promise I won't peak," Isabel said quietly. Ironically, she was no doubt reading my mind right then.

Pushing the nagging feeling that Isabel was actually reading my thoughts or going through my mind right then and might continue to do so even if she said she wouldn't, I searched out the wounds in her skin through the connection. Once I arrived at the location, it was actually more straightforward than I remembered it being. My mind guided the tissues together, reconnected tarnished blood vessels, smoothed the skin. Leaving no scars.

I was good at breaking connections. At that, I was a natural. Once I was done, I immediately stepped out of Isabel's mind, glanced down at her unblemished skin before looking up at her rosy face.

"You did good," she said, sounded a tad proud, but also slightly surprised.

I gave her a nod, being a bit speechless at my own accomplishments.

Isabel smiled softly. "Thank you."

I swallowed and found a trembling voice, "No problem."

* * *

His hands moved gently over my skin, along the curve of my waist, down the shape of my bottom. The water was balmy and soothing, cocooning us in warmth and relief. I looked up to find him watching me, his amber eyes emitting the kind of love that had my toes curling against the tiled floor and my center heating with desire. The look that made me feel like the most special girl in the universe. The look that made me feel like I was _the only_ girl in the universe. The look that made me feel wanted and desirable.

I moved my hands up his wet muscular arms, taking distracted mental notes of the small bumps of wounds and dried blood (he hadn't healed them yet), shaping my palms into the curve where his shoulders connected with his neck. His shoulders, broad and well-defined with muscles, were as sexy as always, producing pleasurable chills that had me press my thighs tightly together to quell my urges.

He loved looking down at me when I had my face raised into the stream of the water, my eyes closed, letting the water wash reassuringly over my features. He didn't tell me, but I could see it in his mind. Through his eyes I could feel his adoration, his pride, his gratitude, his love, his relief. I could see how closely he was looking at me, at my dark eyelashes wet with water, at the warm flush on my cheeks, at the redness of my lips, at the way the droplets got trapped in my eyebrows, how the water made my dark hair darker.

With my eyes closed, the soft warm water flowing down my face, I continued to watch through his eyes, through the connection. I followed his gaze downwards, down the protrusion of my collarbones, down the slight swelling of my breasts. My thighs clenched as I felt his intense lust when he paused at the dark aureolas of my nipples. He loved my breasts. Loved how they fit in his hands. Loved how the nipples reacted to his touch. Loved my sighs when he cradled them.

I had to struggle to keep my eyes closed. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him. But something about the situation, something about how he was slowly looking me over, had me pause. He needed this quiet moment.

There was a twinge of sadness as he moved on to my ribs. His large hands were holding my waist, both his thumbs now moving up to brush against the sharpened edges of my bottom ribs. Through his eyes I saw how small I had become. How thin I was. How the healthy and protective layer of fat had disappeared to almost nothing, making all my bones jut out.

His hand brushed over my stomach, resting it flat against the lower part of my abdomen for a long second, but I didn't have the chance to analyze the conflicting emotions that went through him at that point before he had moved on.

When his fingers lightly brushed through the kinky hair at the apex of my legs, I couldn't hold back any longer.

Opening my eyes, I met his blackened gaze. My hands traveled from his neck to the sharpness of his jawline. He had lost weight too. I brushed my thumbs over his thin stubbled cheeks, our eyes trapped in each other.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the water run in streaks from the tips of his black thick hair, the bronze of his male (oh so very male) body accentuated by the adorning water.

Our bodies were tired. Bone-weary would not even begin to describe it. But his fingers were still between my legs, caressing me slowly but with certainty. He knew my body by now, even without the clues of being able to see into my mind and feel my emotions.

Exhaustion would not hinder us from touching, and would not stop us from finding home and solace in each others' bodies. We were finally alone. Without a threat to our lives. We were finally free to do whatever we wanted and no longer _required_ to do anything.

It was still difficult to wrap our minds around our new reality. We couldn't quite let ourselves relax.

But right now, we were alone. Alone in a bright light-blue tiled bathroom with the bathroom door locked and our family safely spread out in the rest of the house.

To be honest though, with Max's fingers touching me intimately, our families were the last thing on my mind. My boyfriend's wet and pink lips were far more interesting, and in the cascade of warm water (we would most likely use up all of the warm water) I rose to the tips of my toes and pulled his face towards mine in one fluid motion.

His lips were heaven. Insistent, restless, hungry, but at the same time soft and pliant. He tasted like he always had tasted; powerful and gentle, salty and sweet. With every stroke of our lips together, with every dueled turn of our tongues, the heat within my body increased.

Our lower bodies pressed together. My lust for him was obscured by the wetness of the shower, but his longing for me was more than obvious.

In a whirl of gasps and moans, his hands moved to my waist and with a firm hold he lifted me up the length of his abdomen and I naturally wrapped my legs around his hips. One step forward and he had us pressed against the shower wall. His hard unyielding body held me in place against the equally unmoving wall, leaving his hands free to wander.

Oh, and wander they did. By alternating soft caresses with brushes and squeezes, he touched me everywhere, setting my body on fire.

I tore away from his heated lips to kiss down the bend of his neck, touching the life that pulsated in his jugular with the tip of my tongue, with my open-mouthed kisses. His muscles rippled and clenched underneath my wandering hands.

In seconds, I was so riled up that I could barely function.

And then he was inside of me. Technically, it should have been a bit difficult, but we were Max and Liz. Apparently, nothing was a challenge for us anymore.

With a loud gasp, I softened in his arms, both of us pausing in the moment. Feeling, breathing heavily, clasping our bodies together.

My forehead rested against his shoulder, my own shoulders moving up and down with every quick breath, and the tears were already rolling down my cheeks. The grip of my arms across his shoulders tightened. I wanted him close close close.

"We're okay," Max mumbled in my ear and my heart swelled almost painfully at the soft timbre of his voice only because I loved his voice so much.

"We're okay," I agreed, my voice wavering with emotion.

"I love you so much."

I pressed my lips together to keep frantic sobbing at bay while I nodded my head against his stable shoulder and got out, "I love you even more."

He chuckled and kissed my cheek. "Not possible."

My swollen heart melted at the innocence of that peck on my cheek, while he was still inside of me, his desire raging through his body. His desire was undeniable not only in his mind but in the heat of his body. The water from the shower cooled in comparison.

I lifted my head off his shoulder to look up at him, but the light made me freeze.

The light that was all around us, surrounding not only our bodies but filling up the whole shower. The whitest light I had ever seen; still it didn't hurt my eyes. It was gentle and pure. I met Max's eyes, the glow around us making him look amazing. Indescribable.

"You're so beautiful," I told him in awe.

"You're dazzling," he responded and emphasized it by giving me a dazzling smile.

I laughed and fused our lips together, still giggling while we kissed, before I pulled back and told him again that, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

He smiled. That crooked sexy smile. The smile he had teased me with at the beginning. Before we were together. Before we were _allowed_ to be together. When I had mostly been angry with him. Before we had embarked on the adventure of our lives.

"I can't get enough of you," he said, his voice husky, and then he moved inside of me.

I gasped at the sensation, the beautiful feeling of having him inside, of being as close as physically possible, at sharing the pleasure and feeling his love. Because I truly felt his love like this. Felt it radiate into me.

I fused our lips together again while he slowly moved inside of me in a delicious rhythm that only made me ache for more. My body was burning up and I reached out and turned the temperature dial of the faucet down a bit.

I felt his back muscles contract as I held on, felt the tightness of his ass and the back of his thighs against the heels of my feet. My legs kept sliding down his legs, losing their position, losing their strength with his every stroke. But he caught me every time, his capable hands wrapping around the softness of my thighs and pulling them back up to rest on his hips.

I brushed my finger over his nipples, felt them stiffen, felt his pace inside increase. He groaned in my ear, digging his fingers into my thighs, the heels of his palms pressing agains the sides of my quivering knees.

Only the top of my back was in contact with the wall right now, he was hugging the rest to him as we felt and loved our way to the brink.

I came before him, right before he pulled out. He was more careful now. We didn't have any protection and having babies were still not on the agenda.

My feet hit the floor as he pressed my body tightly against his, coming between our embraced bodies. He slowly kissed my neck, kissed my cheeks, kissed my eyebrows.

And then we both started laughing.

"'Let's take a shower', you said," I laughed with tears of joy in my eyes, quoting what he had told me before we had entered the bathroom together. "'Nothing more. We don't have the energy for anything more'."

His cheeks were beautifully red when he looked down at me, a self-conscious smile on his lips. Wordlessly, he shrugged, looking young and playful.

I shook my head slowly and mumbled mostly to myself, "We should know by now that we can't do anything together naked without it ending up like this."

I stilled as he placed his index finger under my chin and angled my face upwards to meet his somber look. With earnest warmth, he tenderly told me, "I've missed you."

It sobered me right up and I reached up to cradled his bearded cheek in my hand. "I've missed you too."

We looked at each other quietly for a couple of seconds, slowly becoming aware of the shower still pelting down on us and being reminded of the true purpose of this trip to the shower.

With a regretful sigh, Max said, "Let's finish up."

I nodded, but remained looking at him as he reached behind him and grabbed the shampoo bottle. He was still glowing. We both were.

I most likely dozed off sitting on the lid of the toilet, wrapped up in a thick bath towel, because sitting down to watch Max shave his several days' old beard off had been the last thing I remembered before waking up in Max's bed.

I came to with a start, ghosts of the past few weeks breathing down my neck, and felt Max's strong arm contract where it was lying across my naked back. I looked at him, lying next to me, as he groaned slightly and used his arm to pull me closer. As far as I could tell, he was still asleep.

We were both on our stomachs and Max had not bothered to dress either of us in any sleeping attire. But truly, what would be the point of doing that? Feeling your partner's naked body against your own was the best comfort one could get.

He was sleeping soundly, mouth slightly open, a small circle of saliva on the pillow underneath his mouth. I smiled at this, thinking of the normalcy of it. Of how I had never seen him drool in his sleep. I don't think he had ever slept deeply enough to do so.

He looked younger, more like the 16-year-old he actually was, with his hair sticking in every direction. Most likely a result of him going to bed with his hair wet from the shower.

I felt peaceful, which was reflected in my adoring smile as I reached over and brushed my fingers through his hair. He mumbled something in response, but he didn't wake.

Like a lovesick fool, I gazed at him for a couple of minutes, my mind simultaneously harmonious and busy. I thought of everything that had happened, of everything we never had the time to process.

After Command's death, after Max had healed his father and I had healed Isabel (successfully, I might add), we had driven to the Evans' residence. The war was over. Just like that. There was still questions as to exactly what had happened. Questions that I bet Dresden and Mr. Evans, to name a few, were busy trying to answer right now.

How had we managed to kill Command?

Why were all of Command's men (at least the ones that had been present in the tunnels) suddenly 'good'? Why had some of them survived the shockwave while some had died from it?

The resistance was busy 'cleaning up'. They already had fairly good idea about who had been on their side and who hadn't. Our enemies were currently being rounded up and put away at the Institute for further questioning and evaluation. There was talk about Max and I doing the whole shockwave-thing to 'cure' the enemies that had not been in the underground tunnels when Max and I had died, and had thus not been hit by the shockwave.

Of course, no one really knew if the shockwave of energy could be repeated without actually having to kill us again. Something that Max and I were not so keen on.

But right now, we were left alone. Right now we were in the comfort of Max's house, recuperating. Looking at Max, sleeping like the dead, I wondered how long we had been asleep and what the rest of the group was up to.

I debated with myself whether to stay. Max looked so comfy. I loved snuggling in his warmth. The mattress was really soft and smelled clean. I loved the soft sounds of Max's breathing and how it was occasionally broken by a light snore.

But curiosity won me over. I needed to explore.

I leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Max's lips. I felt his consciousness click on in my head like a low-energy lamp, slowly gaining strength.

Without opening his eyes, his arm tightening around my body, he grumbled in a voice heavy with sleep, "Where are you going?"

I brushed at his fringe. "Go back to sleep. I'm gonna use the toilet," my stomach rumbled and I laughed softly, "and see if there's something to eat."

He inched one eye open, dry and slightly bloodshot. He looked exhausted.

Voice raspy, he continued, "You'll be okay?"

I smiled. "I'll be fine." I pressed my body up against his and he automatically turned on his side to be able to embrace me fully, melting our naked bodies together in a warm hug. We both sighed in contentment. I stilled there for a moment, before adding, "Besides, I have mean alien powers now. I can take care of myself."

I peeked up at him, wanting to catch his reaction.

Without opening his eyes, he smiled and subtly shook his head. "Yeah yeah."

My smile softening, I whispered, "Love you."

"Love you," he answered back, but his voice was weakening and the 'you' ended with a snore.

He was already asleep again.

I rolled away from his warm body and climbed out of the king-sized bed. The grey linen curtains were drawn across the large floor-to-ceiling windows, but the sun was inching in from between the cracks, spreading longingly along the dark wooden floor. It told me that it was either late morning or day outside.

The room felt more chilly than it probably was after having just left the warm bed, and I looked around for some clothes.

The room was tidy. There was the lingering feeling of it having been uninhabited for a long time. A staleness in the air and a stillness over the furniture.

Forgetting my unclad state, I slowly walked around the room. The few times I had been here, I never really had had a chance to explore. I looked at the photos in the frames, the ones of a happy Max, the ones of a laughing Isabel. My chest tightened with pain when encountering the smiling face of Diane. Diane, who quickly had become like a second mother to me. Who had lost her life so unfairly, so horribly.

We were both without a mother now, Max and I.

I swallowed back the tears, swallowed back the darkness that threatened to invade the serenity of this room, and moved on.

The floor was cool against my bare feet and I tried to walk as lightly as possible to not disturb Max while my hand brushed over frames, over shelves and various pieces of memorabilia. I knew, by reputation, that Max was good at sports, but seeing all the awards on top of his dresser made me realize that there was a lot about Max's 'normal teenage life' that I knew very little of. In my attempt at avoiding him all my life, I had missed out on his big accomplishments as a human boy. Something that I was desperate to share with him, especially after what we had gone through.

I looked over my shoulder at his sleeping frame, the comforter slowly and rhythmically rising with his every breath, his hair sticking up enough to be visible even from the distance I was at now.

Still asleep.

All those guitars propped up against the wall and I had barely heard him play.

I swallowed back the sadness and straightened my back. I was falling into a pit of 'what ifs' and regrets and I wouldn't let myself go there. I needed some light right now or I would... I was afraid of what might happen otherwise. I was afraid of what might happen if I let everything that had happened loose.

Taking a deep, soundless sigh, I - as quietly as I could - opened one of the drawers to the dresser and found his underwear and socks.

Of course. First drawer is always underwear and socks. Max was more human than he thought.

I pulled out a pair of both before I moved on to the next drawer and systematically found both a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

His boxers were like a skirt on me. The intended heels of his socks went up to the bottom of my calves. The sweatpants pooled around my legs, but I found a belt to keep them up around my waist, and the T-shirt almost reached well down my thighs.

But at least I had clothes on. I gave my beloved one final glance before I quietly left Max's bedroom.

I heard voices from downstairs once I got out of the room, but I ignored them in favor of going to the toilet. My bladder felt like it was about to explode.

Having taken care of that minor problem, I washed my hands, washed my face, and went into the hallway. The voices from downstairs reached my ears again. Descending the stairs, I could make out Maria's (let's be honest, it was the clearest and loudest one there) and Isabel's voices. But there was also the occasionally low-key huffing, where I couldn't make out any words, which I assumed to be Michael. And there was...

Reaching first level and stepping around the corner to the kitchen, I filled in my own suspicion with a surprised "Amy?"

Maria's mom was frying something (by the smell of it, I would assume pancakes) at the stove, situated in the kitchen island in the center of the kitchen.

Her cheeks were red with life and her movements as energetic as I had remembered them to be when she looked up in response to her name being called.

My impromptu arrival ceased all conversations in the room and I had a moment to register that the kitchen was occupied by, excluding Amy, Maria, Michael, Alex and Isabel.

Then the moment was over and Amy dropped what she was doing - quite literally; the spatula that had just been in her hand bouncing off the edge of the frying pan and ending up forgotten somewhere on the floor - to happily exclaim my name and briskly round the kitchen island with open arms.

She wrapped me up in her bosom and squeezed me tightly, enveloping me in the smell of childhood and motherhood.

"I'm so glad to see that you are alright, Lizzie," she breathed into my ear, her voice cracking with restrained tears.

"Ditto," I told her and returned her hug with equal tightness. I had worried about Amy as well. I had been worried about Maria's mom ever since Michael had rescued Maria from Command's men when they had attempted to abduct her simply because she knew me.

Despite the fact that I had continuously been assured that Amy was being protected, it was still a relief to see it with my own two eyes.

"My turn," Maria said next to us.

"Patience, grasshopper," Amy told her daughter as she pulled back. She had tears in her eyes as she looked at me. "Really happy to see you." She said it with such affection that it moved me to tears. Tears I tried to constrain.

Instead, I laughed and hugged Maria. "Hi, girlfriend."

"Hey, sleepyhead," Maria teased, but the honesty of her tight hug was anything but teasing. She released me and added, "Where's Max?"

"Asleep," I replied.

"I never knew one could sleep that much," Michael said from the kitchen table.

"Your dad is still asleep too," Maria told me.

I frowned. "How long have I been asleep?"

Maria looked at the kitchen clock, humming, "About a day."

"As in... a night?"

"No," Isabel intervened. "As in 28 hours."

"Right," I mumbled, more than a little shocked by this. Was it even biologically possible to sleep that much?

On the other hand, I _did_ feel incredibly rested.

"Hungry?" Amy asked, already back at governing her pancake station.

My stomach growled so loudly in response that it had everyone in the room laughing. Well, everyone but Michael. He didn't seem that easy to trick into laughing.

"I take that as a 'yes'," Amy concluded at the same time as Alex snuck up behind me and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

Nerves had me jump at his sudden touch, but I quickly settled into his aura and the calmness of it. He put his chin on my shoulder and pressed his cheek against mine while I settled my hands over his, already resting on top of my abdomen.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes."

It didn't bother me that everyone kept asking. It felt good to be amongst friends and family. It warmed me to the core that everyone seemed to have been so worried about me, that even my newest family (Isabel, and perhaps Michael) seemed to care.

"You?" I asked quietly.

"Never been better," he replied. "Especially now that you have saved the world."

"Ha ha," I humored him, trying to make light of his words.

But I guess it was true. With some modification. I didn't actually think that we had saved the _whole_ world, but maybe the world my friends and I were living in at least.

"Come on, sit over here," Isabel called out from the kitchen table, patting on the seat next to her.

I looked at her in slight disbelief but saw nothing teasing in her aura. She was genuinely happy to see me and seemed honest about wanting me to sit next to her. We had grown closer during our time spent at the hostel, where she had rebuilt my confidence and body up after the time spent in captivity, but we had never had the chance to just be around each other under normal circumstances.

Maybe that would all change now.

"No, Liz will be sitting next to me," Maria corrected.

"Your Loverboy is sitting next to you," Alex pointed out.

Michael's face turned a two shades darker red and Maria promptly stepped up and slapped Alex on the arm.

"Ouch!" he cried out and let me go in favor of trying to catch Maria, who was already fleeing.

Alex had confirmed what I had already seen hints of earlier. Maria and Michael were a couple.

"Did you hear the news, Liz?" Isabel said, her hand gestures beckoning me to sit next to her. "Michael and Maria are an item now."

Michael looked ready to pop, his face turning redder and redder, his lips practically non-existent from him squeezing them so tightly. His eyes were black as he flickered them between Alex and Isabel.

"Uh," I got out, glancing uncertainly between my friends.

I was not used to this banter between my two groups of friends. Even Amy was joining in. Without fear, she placed a plate with pancakes in front of Michael. A pancake decorated with chocolate chips and maple syrup to look like a smiley face.

"Whenever Maria is grumpy, I make her Smiley Pancakes," she told him simply. "Works like a charm."

"It doesn't," Maria grumbled, plumping down next to Michael, slightly out of breath after running away from Alex, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Whenever they think we don't see, they can't keep their hands off each other," Alex informed me and I immediately looked at Michael. At the red exploding in his aura, at the clenching of his fists, the tightening of his jaw.

"Alex..." I warned, expecting disaster to strike.

But then Maria put a hand on Michael's bicep and right where her hand touched Michael's skin, his aura started changing. A beautiful green, just like the one surrounding Maria, blossomed in Michael's aura at the point of contact and slowly spread throughout his whole aura.

Amazed, I observed his body language start to change according to the changes in his aura. He visibly relaxed, his body started to slump with the lack of annoyance, and the redness to his face cooled.

"They're just trying to get a rise out of you," Maria told him gently.

He gave her a soft look, reserved only for her, before he raised his eyes and glared at the rest of us.

"Shut the fuck up about Maria and I," he warned, his voice so gruff and sour that it had the opposite effect of his intention.

Everyone started laughing. Even Maria. Eventually Michael kinda smiled too.


	117. ONE ONE SEVEN

_Speechymol - Thank you so so so so much for your feedback! You have no idea how much it meant to me! Thank you thank you thank you! P.S. There actually **is** a lot more to this story :)_

* * *

 **ONE ONE SEVEN**

"You got me at the edge of my seat here, Ria."

I really meant it, too. I was bursting with curiosity, feeling left out of the loop, not knowing if I should be happy or worried.

I was not sure about Michael. I had just started to accept him after he had rescued Maria from those men that had been trying to take her away and do whatever horrible things to her. But before that, and after, things had happened to jostle my already uncertain trust in him.

No, not jostle. Violently rattle.

Before Max had healed me and I had found out his double identity, Michael had intentionally tried to scare me. He had gone out of his way to seek me out in school and act creepy. After I had become a more self-evident fixture in Max's life, Michael had at times acted downright mean towards me. He had been disrespectful and rough. Sometimes it left me wondering whether Michael might hurt me if Max wasn't around.

I had hated how he had treated Max. How, as his protector, Michael's allegiance had been with his superior. He had followed rules and orders, failing to show much loyalty towards Max.

Then there was how he had treated Maria. How she, in his eyes, had been merely a girl. A _human_ girl. And how he, despite the fact that he had - uncharacteristically - rescued her, seemed to have wanted nothing to do with her. How she had seemed a nuisance to him. The way he had addressed her.

Then there was the time when he had almost killed her. When his intention had been to scare Max and I with a blast. That alone was disturbing. But to have injured my best friend because he couldn't control his feelings, which might have killed her had Max not been a healer, did not sit well with me. Actually, I hadn't trusted him much since. He never had a chance to fully redeem himself after that, to convince me to think differently, before we had been thrown into full-blown war.

Of course, Michael had seemed very affected by what he had done to Maria when that blast had hit him. It had given me some hope that there was a beating heart in him.

No, sorry. That was rough. But still, he was not the gentlest of persons. He was the kind that you might tell your best friend not to date because he seemed dangerous.

All of this was going through my mind as Maria sat in front of me on the bed, picking at burls in her oversized knitted blue sweater, while avoiding my eyes.

"Well," she started, dragging the word out into a sigh.

Why was this so hard? I frowned. Everyone else seemed to know about it. Everyone had joked about it previously. About Michael and her being a couple.

"Just tell me, Ria," I practically begged. I was crawling out of my skin.

There was a knock at the door.

Maria looked up, relief flashing across her face.

 _Saved by the bell_ , I thought tightly.

But I already knew who it was. I had felt him waking up a couple of minutes ago and it hadn't taken him long to figure out where I was.

"Can I come in?" he asked from the other side of the door.

 _I'm talking to Maria,_ I told him mildly. _So you'll have to ask her if it's okay._

Maria looked at me, questioningly.

I shrugged. "It's up to you."

Max changed his request according to my mental direction. "Maria? Can I come in?"

Maria looked both troubled and annoyed. Obviously, she was hesitant to tell the truth. Even to me. Telling it to both Max and I might just be too much.

I put my hand on her knee and squeezed it in comfort, while telling the closed door, "We need some time alone," helping Maria with her decision.

She looked immediately relieved, letting me know that I had done the right thing.

 _I need to see you. I need to give you a hug._

His mental request made my heart clench, his words firing up the longing in my body.

Feeling bad, I held my index finger up to Maria and said, "Just one second."

I caught her eye roll before I slid off the bed.

Inching the door open, I wasn't fully prepared for the sight. I inhaled sharply, my heart fluttering.

"Hi," he said slowly.

I was speechless. Had he always been that good looking? The glow of his skin, the curve of his mouth (I licked my lips), the perfection of those dark long eyelashes, how the edges of his fringe rested against his forehead, the sexy ruffle to the rest of his hair, the color of his skin brought out by the whiteness of his T-shirt.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, a knowing smile lingering in the corners of his mouth.

He could see straight into my mind. And he was enjoying my reaction.

At this realization, I straightened while clearing my throat. "Hi."

The greeting did not come out as assertive as I wanted it to, but it would have to do. It didn't help the shakiness of my body or lessen the sexiness of his that he chose that moment to lean forward and slowly brush his fingers down the side of my face. "You look beautiful."

"You-you too," I stammered, hating myself for my lack of composure.

He didn't tease me about it though. Instead he leaned further forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. A kiss that left me longing for more. I found myself chasing after his lips when he leaned back to break the kiss. So he stepped forward with his whole body and gave me a proper kiss. The wood from the door frame jutted into my left cheek and the wood from the door jutted into my right while I kissed Max thoroughly, enjoying every millimeter of his lips.

My heart was pounding in my chest when he pulled back and I knew that it affected him too. I knew how weak his knees felt at the moment; I felt the uncontrolled wild flight of butterflies in his stomach, and the warmth in his cheeks.

"I slept very well, thank you," I told him breathlessly.

"You fell asleep on the toilet," he told me. His voice was soft but it was impossible to miss the teasing note.

"I figured as much," I acknowledged and raised an eyebrow at him, "And you drool in your sleep."

Calmly, he shook his head, "Nah. Must have been you. You were trying to steal my pillow."

My mouth fell open in indignation. "Nah-uh. I _saw_ you drool. It was right around the time that your snores were sawing through my ear drums."

He looked at me, amused, with a sexy half-smile. "It would be very un-gentlemanly of me to tell you that you snore too."

I raised my eyebrows. "You just did."

He shrugged causally. "I guess I'm not a gentleman."

 _Yes. Yes, you are, Max,_ I thought fondly. His eyes softened and he pretended to not have heard my thought, instead leaning forward to peck me on the cheek.

"I'll let you get back to Maria now. Meet you downstairs after?"

A shadow passed in his eyes. I frowned. There was something bugging him. Had been for awhile. I had seen and felt it earlier when we had showered together. It had been camouflaged by the war, but with the situation calming down that nagging feeling was making itself known again. That he was hiding something from me. And I had a feeling that he was keeping information from me to protect me.

He knew what I was thinking, and I could almost hear him move from one line of thinking to the next to conceal it from me. With our more advanced connection, it was almost impossible to directly block information from each other, but if you didn't think actively about something the other person had to know where to look to find that something. A skill I didn't yet possess.

It felt ridiculous to pretend like I hadn't noticed anything amiss when we both knew that I had, but it felt like the thing to do.

Thus, instead of initiating a long line of questioning with my best friend seated a couple of feet behind me, my line of action was to nod in response to his question and offer him a smile.

Our eyes lingered, me trying to read him, him trying to avoid being read, while I slowly closed the door between us.

"You're hopeless, you know that?" Maria observed from her cross-legged position on the bed.

I brushed the uneasy feeling off and shrugged innocently. "We just came back from the dead together, what do you expect?"

She pursed her lips in mock contemplation. "True. You have a point."

"So," I took a seat opposite her on the bed, my body position mimicking hers so that our knees were almost touching. Taking a deep breath, I forcefully pushed the bad feeling about Max to the farthest parts of my mind. "Where were we?" As if we didn't know. Giving her a meaningful look I answered my own rhetorical question, "Right. You and Michael. Go."

"I really didn't like him, okay," Maria started, defending herself.

"Right," I said, hoping that for once Maria was going to start at the beginning and tell the story from point A to point B instead of how she usually did it.

"But then they rushed in and took me and suddenly he was there-"

I guess going from A to B was not how she was planning to do this. I put my hands up to stop her. "Whoa whoa. Time out. Go back. Start from the beginning."

She frowned, annoyed, brushing her thick braid off her shoulder and scratching her eyebrow.

I placed my hand on her knee again and softened my voice, "Start at the point when we went our separate ways, okay?"

Why did I get the feeling that she was about to tell me something horrible? That she had gone through something traumatic.

Forcefully, she blew a breath out through her mouth. "Okay."

But when she didn't say anything else, I tried to guide her, get her going, by prompting, "So you and dad left with that guy Williams."

"Yeah," Maria confirmed and added almost too casually, "He's dead now."

I took a deep breath, shivers running up my spine. "Okay."

The _alien_ man that had been sent to protect my father and Maria had been killed. How was it that my family was still alive?

She tucked some errant strands of her golden hair, which had escaped her braid, behind her ears and took one long calming breath. She had once tried to teach me how to meditate. It looked like she was about to apply that knowledge right now on herself. "I'll start from the beginning."

I nodded, remaining quiet to not interrupt her.

She kept her gaze fixed on a point above my knee as she started talking, her voice even and calm. "From what I could piece together, the plan was to not take us out of the tunnels. Williams seemed to be of the opinion that we were safer hiding there, since we would be closer to friends if anything were to happen."

 _Closer to foes as well,_ I though grimly, but let her continue.

"So we hid in a lab of some kind. It smelled awful." She scrunched her nose up at the memory, and normally I would have smiled at her for getting stuck on such a detail, but there was too much of a sinister tone to her tale for me to feel inclined towards humor. "We hid in some old cold room. I have no idea what they used to store there, but it was not very clean. But I didn't complain. It was pretty scary actually."

She started picking at her sweater again. "And there was this one light that was about to go out and it kept on blinking. It was like being inside a horror movie, just waiting for the monsters to find us. From time to time we could hear voices outside, screams, footsteps. But they all just passed. No one came inside."

She paused, stilling her restless motions with her hands, and looked up at me. There was something distant in her eyes. It made me cold.

But before I had time to say anything, she continued, "Well, someone _did_ eventually come in."

I swallowed. I knew that it was over, that her story was in past tense, that the events she was describing had already happened. I knew that she was unharmed and sitting in front of me. Nevertheless, I feared for her life right then.

I could visualize the room she was painting. Her descriptions blended with my own memories of the bathroom of my prison cell, where I had wished to die. They blended with the white tiles of the bathroom floor where my mother had bled, where her miscarried children had drawn their last breaths in puddles of drying blood.

 _Take a deep breath_ , Max told me, and I jumped at his voice. Of course he was there. He was listening to everything. His voice immediately calmed me down. _You're safe. Nothing can happen to you. Or Maria. You're both safe._

I nodded, catching the fear in Maria's eyes while I took a deep calming breath.

"What happened?" I asked, needing her to tell me. For her sake. She needed to talk about this. Just like I had the need to one day tell her everything. When she was strong enough to handle it.

"The man was all bloody. Limping. He came out of nowhere. He moved so quickly into the lab and further into the cold room - like he knew that we were there - that I think he took Williams by surprise. He took us all by surprise."

She interlaced her fingers, wringing her hands, her gaze roving restlessly. "Williams never had a chance. The man shot his head off."

She shuddered, a large tear rolling down her cheek and swallowed loudly. "There was only a stump left. A stump that kept pumping blood."

I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her. She folded into my embrace. "Okay, okay," I told her. "No more details. Just move past it, okay?"

I saw Diane's decapitation in front of me, but Max quickly moved in and replaced it with a smiling Diane. A happy - alive - Diane. The change of memory made me sad, there was no way around it, but it stopped me from fixating on that awful incident.

I let Maria pull back when she felt ready. As she did, she wiped some tears off her cheeks and pulled herself together with a big sigh. "He came after us next. I thought I was going to die. I was sure of it. I wondered how it felt to have your head blown off. Did Williams feel it hurt? Or would he not kill me immediately? Would he torture me? If I was given a choice, would I choose torture or death?"

I realized then what might have been the first point in her escaping a certain death. "They wanted you alive? Both you and dad?"

She looked up at me, eyes reddened with tears, nose sniffling and equally red. She sniffed and nodded, her tongue shooting out to lick some tears off her upper lip. "Yeah. I guess so. At least for a while. I'm still not sure what for."

 _Leverage_ , I thought immediately. It was always a good idea to have a backup plan. Maybe they were counting on my love for my best friend and for my father to have me sacrifice myself for them. That I would help the enemy just to keep Maria and my dad safe.

"Four more men moved in after him. They took your dad. Neither one of us fought them. We thought it unwise to do so. But I could see on your dad's face that he thought it was over. He was just as scared as I was."

"They were taking you to Command," I guessed.

"I'm not sure," Maria said. "But Command had an interest in me before, so I guess it wouldn't have been impossible to assume that he was still trying to get me."

"Right," I said calmly, while feeling anything but.

"Then Michael came."

I straightened in my seat, looking at her intently. "Okay?"

How the hell did Michael get there?

"He was alone." She slowly licked her lips and her voice softened, "He was...amazing." She blushed at her own choice of word and diverted her eyes. "He fought like a whole army. He was just one person against so many enemies, still he picked them off, one by one. Like it was nothing. Like a..." She frowned, looking bothered, "...killing machine."

This bothered me too. But if it meant that he had saved Maria, I didn't mind the least that he had been a killing machine.

"I don't think he noticed me at first," Maria continued. "He was completely into what he was doing. He barely looked up."

 _He noticed you,_ I thought. If Michael was a 'killing machine', an expert at protection and well acquainted with strategy and military battles, he was required to be highly aware of his surroundings. He had most likely done a thorough sweep of the laboratory as he entered it, taking into account how many there were, who they were, if the surroundings would be to his advantage or disadvantage.

 _He noticed her,_ Max echoed in my head, agreeing with me.

Before I had a chance to tell her just that, Maria said, "Michael killed the man that was holding your dad. He shot him without so much as grazing your father, without hesitation. That's when the guy that was holding me got nervous. He wrapped his arm around my throat and squeezed. I couldn't breathe. And then he pressed his palm against the side of my head."

I could tell by the memory of terror in Maria's eyes that she had known already at that point what that movement meant. It was synonymous with putting a gun to someone's head. The aliens' weapon were their hands. He had the power to blast her head off.

"He cried out to Michael to stop or he would kill me."

I reached out and grabbed Maria's shaking hand. She was reliving the whole thing and it was tearing me apart. My happy, bubbly, best friend that had been so full of life. Would she ever return? Or had she been murdered by the fact that she had become friends with me? A gaea. A parim. Talk about making friends with the wrong kind of people.

Me.

"So Michael stopped."

I had stopped breathing. I was hanging on to her every word.

"He just grew still, staring at the man, glancing at me. But mostly looking at the man. He's told me later that he was calculating the guy's proximity to me, trying to find holes in his defense, ways to get to the guy without hurting me. But he was too close. So Michael decided to make a deal with the guy."

I frowned. "What was the deal?"

Maria licked her lips, wringing her hands. "That they would take Michael instead of me."

What?

I was baffled. Shocked actually. Michael, who I viewed as a rather selfish man, had offered to sacrifice himself for someone else? Sacrifice himself for a human?

Maria saw my expression and laughed. A weak, short laugh. "Yeah. I know. I was surprised too."

"How? Why? How?" I babbled.

"He tried to sell himself like he was on a job interview, only a very sadistic one. He was talking about how they actually wanted him, not me. How he was closer to Max. How Max was the one with all the power, not Liz. How Max didn't care about a normal human girl," she raised her eyebrows disapprovingly, clarifying, "Me, in other words. That it would be better for them to take Michael to get leverage on Max than taking me as leverage on you."

I remained silent, waiting for her to continue, at the edge of my seat.

"It kinda backfired," Maria sighed. "The guy pointed out that he might as well kill me then, if I was so useless."

"Right," I mumbled. Of course.

"I could tell that it threw Michael. That horrible man laughed in my ear, telling me that I was as good as dead. That I was a whore. That I deserved to die. I was worthless."

I squeezed her hand again. She gave me a wobbly smile of gratitude.

"It was difficult to breathe, his hold was so tight. And I was getting dizzy. But I kept looking at Michael, and for a moment I was convinced that he was only looking at me. As if he was apologizing. It scared me more than anything. I was afraid that it meant that there was nothing to do. That he was sorry about not being able to help me. That I was actually going to die."

She paused for too long and I became anxious to hear the rest. "So... What happened?"

Maria looked bothered. Nauseous even. "Michael changed tactics, I guess. He started to joke. Tell the guy how useless I was. That I was no threat. That I was nothing but a weak human. That I would die down here and that would be more satisfactory to Command, having me starve and be afraid without any protection. That the guy might as well just let me go. That it would be too easy to just kill me. No suffering."

I can understand why it bothered her. If Max had said that about me, even if it was done with the agenda to ultimately save my life, I'm not sure how I would have felt.

"The guy then came to the conclusion that he might as well keep both of us. If Michael really wanted to tag along, sacrifice himself, the guy was just going to use me to keep Michael in line."

I sighed. If only the evil guys in the real world were as stupid as those in movies. I guess not. I had it proven to me over and over again, but I still hoped for a stupid criminal that would fall for our traps and misdirections.

"He understood that Michael wanted you alive," I confirmed.

Maria nodded. "Yeah. I guess he had seen the look Michael had given me. I think he was apologizing for what he was about to say about me, but the guy read much more into it than I did at the time."

"He's in love with you," I stated quietly, finding it a bit difficult to believe. Not that it was difficult to believe that anyone could be in love with Maria, but difficult to believe that _Michael_ could be in love with someone. Especially that he could be in love with a _human_.

Maria nodded again and her voice broke as she whispered, "And I'm in love with him."

"Hey," I coaxed softly, making her look at me. "That's nothing to be ashamed of. You don't choose who you fall in love with."

"But you don't like him," Maria said, sadness in her voice. " _I_ didn't even like him. I even hated him." She laughed, not a single trace of humor in her laugh. "Hell, I'm not even sure I _like_ him, but I know I love him. It's really confusing."

"Sweetie," I mumbled. "If he treats you right, I will grow to like him. And saving your life is a very good start. If that's what he did, I mean."

She nodded. "He did. To make a long story short, he decided to walk with us. But first, he gave quiet instructions to your father to hide. Neither I nor the guy heard where, and he didn't hide until we had left. The guy was holding me tightly the whole time and my lungs were starving for air. We walked like that for what felt like an eternity, but it was probably more like twenty minutes. And eventually someone was bound to slip up. You can't keep your focus up for that long. We hadn't met a single person during that time. We could hear the battle going on, but I suspect the guy was taking us through a short-cut, where there was no fighting going on, to get to Command as quickly as possible. The second that guy tripped, Michael was there. I barely had time to blink before Michael had obliterated the guy. One second he was there, the next he was dust raining down on me."

She shuddered at the memory and I looked at her sympathetically.

"I was shocked, obviously, and really scared. And I didn't know how to react. I was all over the place." She looked at me sheepishly. "You know how I get?"

I smiled. "Yep. Hyperventilating? Babbling? Difficult to talk to? Not listening?"

She grimaced. "All of the above."

"Yeah, been there."

Maria reached over and lightly pinched my arm, making me cry "Ow," which rewarded me with a pointed look.

"He calmed down. He protected me from there on. He took out every enemy we encountered, all the while being very protective of me. He didn't let me out of his sight for a second. He held my hand, like, 98% of the time. He rubbed my hands between his when I was becoming too cold. He gave me my sweater to keep me warm. He carried me when I got tired. He never complained. Barely huffed." She smiled to herself, lost in her own world of memories. "Well, maybe he did once or twice."

"So..." I mused when she grew silent, a dorky dreamy smile on her face. "Michael came through in the end?"

She looked up at me, torn from her dreamworld. "Yeah. He really did. I mean, Lizzie, he was willing to sacrifice himself for me. Trade his life for mine! He was willing to face Command, even when he knew what had happened to you guys at Command's hands."

I smiled. "Yeah, that's something."

She nodded, eyes wide with pointed meaning. "It truly is. It's everything. He's my knight in shining armor."

I grimaced. "Are you sure it's that clean? Like, I don't think he's washed his hair for weeks."

She punched my arm lightly, causing us both to laugh.

"You're probably right," she admitted between giggles.

When we calmed down, I looked at her somberly. "I'm happy for you, Maria. I really am. I hope he'll deserve you one day."

"I'll make sure he does," she said, with that beautiful confidence that was all Maria DeLuca.

I chuckled and spread my arms out in invitation, "Give me some love, babe," and she melted in my arms in a long sisterly hug.

Maybe there was hope for us. Maybe there was hope for us all.

Even Michael Guerin.


	118. ONE ONE EIGHT

_Speechymol - There might just be more of Michael coming up. We have just barely started to scratch the surface on that guy. Thank you so much for the feedback!_

* * *

 **ONE ONE EIGHT**

The Institute was much bigger than I had envisioned.

It was a labyrinth of corridors, rooms and secret corners. The walls were plastered white, the flooring a light brown linoleum. The offices were small, the labs were large. The floors were divided up according to their 'guests'. There was one for 'traitors', one for the 'delusional', one for the 'test subjects' and one very small area for 'children'. Of course, this is not what they were officially called. But that's how it translated when I was briefly informed of the different levels.

Waiting for the elevator, my eyes fixated on the label for the 2nd floor.

 _Nursery._

That was probably where they had kept Max when he was young.

Max squeezed my hand and I looked up at him. He gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was nervous. As nervous as I was. But as usual, it didn't show on the outside. On the outside he was the epitome of calmness.

We weren't going to the 2nd floor. We were visiting the 4th.

I glanced at the label, just as the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival and the opening of the doors.

 _Dissidents._

What Command would call _traitors._ The ones they would reprogram to believe that humans were to be used for their own benefit and make them follow Command's laws without blinking. The ones that had become rebels but were forced, through mind manipulation, to lose their own free will of thought and deduction.

Fortunately, a lot of those dissidents had been treated by James Dresden, the leader of the rebellion. He had made them temporarily forget what they were fighting for, making them believe that Command was correct, until their minds were unlocked at the right time. Hiding them in plain sight like a Trojan Horse.

Like they had done with my father. Locked away the information about aliens until a time when he might need it to protect his daughter.

The elevator was empty and quiet. No music to calm your nerves. Just a big metal box with buttons on the side wall.

I stepped close to Max as we entered. There were five of us; Dresden, Max's father, an Institute worker, Max, and me.

My jacket was too warm. It was bothering me. But before I had the chance to do anything about it, Max had reached over and pulled down on the zipper, opening it. I gave him a half-hearted smile, feeling stupid.

But ever since being a prisoners at the hands of aliens, small confined spaces made me nervous. I wouldn't call myself claustrophobic, but that might just be exactly what I had become.

 _Are you nervous?_ Max asked, despite knowing the answer.

I answered just to have something to talk about, _Terribly._

 _Me too_ , he admitted.

He looped an arm around my waist and pressed me into his body. At first, I was afraid it would make me feel even more confined, but his proximity only calmed me.

 _We don't even know what we're doing. We don't know how we did what we did._

 _No._ He was troubled. He was used to this place. However, undeterred by the fact that he had been held captive somewhere in this building and having spent time here as a child, it wasn't the surroundings that were troubling him. He was bothered by the fact that _I_ was here. That his people were still demanding things from me. Demanding acts and favors. As if it was our duty to dance to their tune.

He was annoyed that we were still being used. That the war had not ended with the end of the battle.

Now we had to meet the remainder of Command's army. The men that Dresden and his men had spent the past two weeks rounding up. The men that were still hostile and firm believers in Command's rule.

Command's men didn't even try to hide it. Not even to save their own lives. They were willing to die for a man that was already dead. Like they knew something, like they knew that it wasn't over.

This troubled Max.

Our purpose today was to attempt to eradicate the evil out of those few remnants of Command's league of terror. Like our shockwave seemed to have done at the time of our death. But no one really had a clue as to how that should be done. Not even Max and I.

But they _expected_ us to do it. To free Earth from the last evil aliens.

The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival at our destination. The doors slid open and shouts and arguing voices hit us like a wave. This was a loud floor.

I froze. Max grew still.

The rest of the men left the elevator while we remained. I considered reaching over and pressing the button for 'Ground Level', but my pounding heart was paralyzing me into inaction.

"Come on, Max. Liz." Philip Evans looked at us pointedly.

Yes, this was expected of us.

I looked at Max and mumbled bitterly, "Let's just get it over with."

He gave a short nod, slowly removing his arm from my waist, leaving a warm trail, before moving down my wrist and grabbing my hand. Our fingers interlaced, instinctively, comfortably.

The walls were darker on this floor. Not plastered. Wooden panels. It didn't take me long to recognize the corridors, the smell.

This is where Command had kept Max. This is where I had run to find help when he had been stabbed by Sean. My throat constricted, my steps halted, and Max couldn't comfort me this time. Max was recognizing the milieu as well. Especially the smell.

"We can't be here," Max got out through clenched jaws. I heard the unmistakable anguish in his voice. His determined protest.

Dresden looked back at us, his purposeful steps faltering. He frowned. "You-"

"Max almost died here," I said, anger creeping up my scalding throat.

They knew this! They must know this!

Why would they take us here? So casually. As if we wouldn't be uncomfortable by it. As if it would not bring forward horrible memories.

"We can't be here," Max repeated, more forcibly this time, and without further ado, he turned us around and pulled me towards the elevators.

No one said anything. No one yelled after us or ordered us to turn around. Maybe they got it.

I clenched my fists tightly together. Maybe those stupid idiots were finally putting two and two together.

But there were shuffling steps behind us, following us. The elevator was still at our floor, doors open. Max pulled me inside and pressed 'Ground Level'. We saw them on the other side, just reaching the elevator as the doors were closing.

"Max, ple-"

Mr. Evans' voice was cut off by the closing of the elevators and Max pulled me to him. I tucked perfectly beneath his chin, and I wrapped my arms tightly around his middle and buried my face in his shirt. The thumping of his heart against my ear was harsh as he enfolded me in the safety of his arms.

We stood like that, breathing heavily, wishing our mental demons away, until that 'Ping' announced the opening of the doors. Separating, he grabbed my hand and together we strode down the corridor towards the entrance.

Mr. Evans and Dresden caught up with us outside. By then, Max was livid.

"Are you fucking insane?!" he bellowed before the men had a chance to open their mouths.

Faced with Max's anger, they automatically took a step back.

"Calm down," Mr. Evans said, voice soft and calm.

"Do you have any fucking idea what happened to us in there?! On that floor?"

"Of course we do," Max's father tried to meddle. "I was there, remember? I was there during your captivity and I was there to heal you when Sean hurt you."

"Exactly!" Max sputtered, saliva flying from his mouth with his rage. He was still holding onto my hand, amazingly enough not squeezing me too tightly, his hold as comforting as it always was. "Then you should know better than anyone what a sick joke it is to bring us back there."

"We didn't think it would be that traumatizing for you," Dresden tried.

I huffed incredulously. "Not traumatizing?"

"It would be complicated to move the prisoners to other locations for you to treat them. It was easier to bring you to them than to-"

" _Easier?!_ " Max demanded, looking like he wanted to simultaneously laugh and scream. "What about _our_ well-being? Do you ever think about that? Or is it always going to be about _your_ cause and what _you_ want?!"

Before they had a chance to answer, Max shook his head and mumbled, "Fucking unbelievable." Turning to me, his eyes black with betrayal and hurt, he said, "Come on, Liz. Let's go."

"Max, Max," Dresden tried. "Come on. How are you going to get out of here? You have no car."

"We'll find a way," Max grumbled, already walking away, me in tow.

"Come inside and calm down," Mr. Evans all but pleaded. "We'll work something out."

There was almost desperation in his voice when Dresden said, "Please, Max. We're sorry. We'll arrange to get them to you. Whatever room you find comfortable."

Max's steps slowed.

 _What do you think?_ he asked me. _Should we trust them?_

I swallowed back my anger and my need to flee. Tried to suppress my desire to bury my head in the sand. _They won't give up. We might as well do it today. But they should at least do it on our terms._

 _Right,_ Max agreed, his demeanor softening.

We came to a halt, our backs to Max's father and the leader of the rebellion, while Max took one deep breath after the other. After the fourth one, he turned.

"We do it our way or not at all," he said.

The relief was visible on both Mr. Evans' and Dresden's faces. Dresden was the one to voice their agreement, "Right. We'll work something out."

35 minutes later, our first 'patient' was seated in front of us, in a room of our choice (large area, with lots of windows), surrounding by eight Institute workers, prepared to interfere if something went wrong.

The man, a bearded dirty blond in his 40s with an evil grin and cold dark blue eyes, was restrained to the chair by velcro bands, wrapping all around him and the chair at his waist, upper chest and shins. One of rebellion's top military men was holding his arm up, aiming straight at the man's head, prepared to shoot at any moment.

All this commotion and the precautions they had taken made me nervous, made me think this was a very dangerous man. Most likely he was.

Which didn't comfort me much when I knew that our plan constituted touching that man.

 _What if he bites us?_ was my errant thought when we stood there, looking the guy over.

Max laughed, causing the personnel in the room to stare at us in bewilderment.

 _I mean, we're touching his shoulders. His head is still free to move. What if he turns his head and bites us?_

 _And infects us with rabies?_ Max asked, amused.

 _I'm glad you're finding this so amusing,_ I grumbled.

He glanced down at me, squeezing my hand. _He won't bite us._

I frowned. _How can you be so-_

 _He won't bite us,_ Max repeated.

I wouldn't just give in. _I hope you're right,_ I told him.

 _I can heal, you know,_ he reminded me, winking at me.

 _It'll still hurt,_ I retorted.

Dresden cleared his throat. "Um, guys. Are you ready?"

I gave Max a glare I didn't mean. Secretly I was relieved that our conversation had lightened the seriousness of the situation.

"Sure," Max said reluctantly.

We approached the man with caution, as if he might indeed fly off the chair and start chewing on us.

As we took one side each of the man and placed our hands on top of each respective shoulder, the man threateningly bit out, "Don't touch me, mutants!"

We ignored him, but I made sure that my hand was at a safe distance from his mouth.

 _Ready?_ Max asked me and I gave a nod.

In unison, we closed our eyes and focused. Focused on each other. On each others' breathing. On the feel of each other. On how we felt when we were around each other. We remembered the light that we had become when we had died. We thought of the light we emitted when we made love. We thought of our love for our family and friends, of every good act we could think of. We thought of our moms and what they had meant to us. We thought of kissing, of making love, of sleeping close together with our bare skins touching.

At first the man felt cold. We were inside of his dark and monochromatic aura. We felt his anger and his need for revenge. We felt his sinister ideas and plans. But slowly, he became warmer. Slowly his feelings grew lighter and more vibrant. More alive. Better.

Once the temperature of his aura - once _the feel_ of him - had reached our level of warmth, we opened our eyes.

Our gazes met first, smiles were exchanged, a private feeling of having shared and relived something very private. Something that meant a lot even to ourselves.

Next we removed our hands and took a step back while looking at the man.

He had lost his boastful expression. He looked as confused as the man that approached us after Command's death. The man that had told us to run.

We started to walk away from him, our hands finding the other when we came together, scanning the silent crowd. They were all looking at the man, frowning, trying to decide if something was different.

Then he started to speak. It started by asking questions about where he was. What had happened.

I looked at his aura, noticed the colors in the previously grey and black aura. They were bleak and washed out, still not fully recuperated, but they were there.

"Did it work?" Dresden asked us.

"We don't know," Max answered truthfully.

Dresden looked past us at the man, his forehead wrinkled in contemplation.

"I think it worked," Mr. Evans said.

Mr. Evans was seeing the man's aura. He was the only one, besides Max and I, who could see it.

"How...?" Dresden mumbled. "How are you doing this?"

Max almost smirked at him, looking mighty pleased. He didn't mind baffling those big leaders. He didn't mind leaving them confused and lacking answers. He certainly didn't mind putting them in their place. "We infuse them with goodness."

Mr. Evans looked at his son, concern in his eyes. "By doing so, does it deplete your own goodness?"

I reflected on the lightness of my heart, of how good I felt, of how the whole procedure had helped us almost as much as it seemed to have helped the man. It had forced us to focus on the good things.

"No," I replied in Max's place. "It doesn't."

Mr. Evans' right eye twitched as he observed me dubiously. "Huh," was all he said to that, before he diverted his attention to the prisoner, who was smiling at one of the workers, apparently recognizing him as an old classmate.

"We can't be sure yet. He can't be trusted yet." Dresden turned to Mr. Evans, pointing towards the man as he continued. "He should be put in quarantine to be evaluated in the same manner as the men from Dulce Base before we release him."

"Yes, I agree," Mr. Evans said.

"Do you have the energy to treat more prisoners?" Dresden asked, turning to us.

Max and I looked at each other and it only took one look to decide. "Okay," we answered in chorus.

We didn't have time to 'treat' all of the prisoners on that one day, halted by the fact that some of them actually died by the 'treatment'. Something that both frightened and upset Max and I, resulting in us having a lengthy meeting with some important men about what this could mean.

The only common pattern we found to the prisoners that would either die or frankly turn into ashes at our touch, was that they were all the worst prisoners of the lot. They were the darkest, the most evil, the most cunning, the ones closest to Command in degree of malevolence.

We reached the conclusion that in the case of all-consuming evil, when there was too much malice in the soul and in the body, it could not be healed. Once the light moved in and removed the darkness, there was nothing left of the person. So he died.

This lead us to a hypothesis about how we had conquered Command. About how he had died. Earlier, we had told Max's father and Dresden that Command seemed to have attempted to steal our essence to gain access to our connection, to our strength and abilities. Maybe by doing so, he had been _infected_ with goodness - with light - and it had broken him apart like it was doing to his most vicious men. The shockwave emitted from our floating souls had been the final hit for Command, killing him instantly when already weakened by our light. The shockwave had treated the men not fully consumed by darkness and had made them alright again, but the ones too far gone - the ones too 'dark' - had been killed. Just like Command.

We killed them with kindness. Literally.

By the end of that day, Max and I felt concurrently rejuvenated and bone-tired. The light we had infused in the prisoners had been good for us, reminding us that life was worth fighting for. That our future was worth fighting for. We had beautiful friends and family, and we had each other.

Hopefully, that would be enough.

After a large supper at the Evans' residence, Max and I went upstairs to Max's room. We had filled the rest of the group in on what had happened today and the news had brought everyone hope. We had seen it on their faces. That tentative hope.

Michael had even kissed Maria on the lips. Right in front of everyone. Which had elicited cat calls from Alex and whistles from Max. Michael had used his trademark glare before he had pulled Maria into his side on the kitchen bench they were sharing and pressed a kiss to her hair.

No one had said anything about that. The act had been too endearing.

Once we closed the door behind us and the tranquility of the bedroom welcomed us, I put my arms around Max and hugged him close. We stood like that for several minutes, just inside the closed door, breathing each other in. Being alone for the first time since this morning.

The white light was already surrounding us, even if we were only standing like this. We were tapped up on light from the day.

Quietly, Max grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. I did the same with his. Step by step, we alternated between undressing one item of clothing until we were standing naked in front of each other.

Max put his hand over the lock to lock it, while his eyes never trailed from my frame. His eyes were dark with desire, his breathing quickening. I felt the same quickening in my own chest, the strength of my blood rushing through the blood vessels. My longing for him was pounding between my legs, my breasts aching for his touch.

Gently, in strong contrast to the passion in his eyes, he took one of my hands and started walking towards the bed. I followed, admiring his toned behind, admiring how the muscles of his back rippled with his movements, admiring the well-defined muscles of his thighs and calves.

He sure was one beautiful and well-sculptured specimen of a man.

While he leaned forward to pull the bed covers back, I came to stand behind him and ran my hands down his beautiful back. I pressed my aching center against his well-shaped ass right before bending forward and pressing my front against his back in a backwards hug.

I loved him so much.

He raised up slightly, putting his hands on top of mine where they pressed against his abdomen.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, concerned.

He knew my mind. Felt it being filled up with lust for him. But sometimes, with intense emotions, it was difficult to read the other. Everything got so overwhelming. At those times, it was good that we could still talk to each other, in that normal human way.

"I just love you so much," I mumbled, cheek pressed against his left lumbar musculature.

"I love you too, Lizzie," he said. "Forever."

He smoothly turned in my arms and pulled me with him onto the bed. Our lips were hot and fiery as they came together, moving in a beautiful dance, tasting and loving. The movements of our mouths spurred on what our bodies wanted.

I rubbed against him, loving the feeling of his body, fueling our passion. With one easy lift of my hips, he settled me in a seated position on top of him. I kissed down the center of his chest, circled my tongue around his nipples and kneaded his toned flesh in my hands. I couldn't get enough of him.

I moaned as he took my breasts in both of his hands, brought his mouth to my nipple, sending fire in a line from the point where his tongue touched me to the apex at the top of my legs.

Me head fell backwards and I lost track of time and space. I was lost in him. Lost in Max Evans.

His hips moved up against mine, searching for that final contact between us. Lifting my hips and positioned myself above him, he easily slipped inside of me. We gasped at the sensation, at him stretching inside of me, of us connecting fully. At the love that surrounded us, mixing with our passion, making us float while we moved against each other. Faster, slower, pausing, kissing, faster, falling, kissing, slower, falling again. A beautiful ungoverned dance, made just for us.

Afterwards, we laid spent next to each other, our legs intertwined, drawing invisible doodles on each other's skin with our fingers, contented smiles on our faces, talking about everything and nothing.

Until someone knocked at the door.

"Max? Liz?"

Mr. Evans.

We went with the plan to pretend we were already asleep, until there was another knock.

"Max? Liz? It's urgent."

Sighing, Max mumbled, "It's always 'urgent'," and rolled out of bed.

He caught me looking at his butt with a satisfied smile on my face and winked at me, "You like?"

"I love," I admitted, my smile widening.

He pulled his boxers over his hips and leaned in for a kiss. "I love your tush too."

I laughed. "My tush?"

Another knock. Now more impatient than ever. "Max?"

Max rolled his eyes, stole another kiss, and picked his T-shirt off the floor, pulling it over his head as he walked towards the door.

I pulled the comforter up to my chin, hiding beneath the concealing covers. Even if I was covered up, it felt odd to be naked under the covers while my future father-in-law was standing mere feet away.

The oddity factor spiked up to horribly uncomfortable levels when Mr. Evans basically stormed into the room as soon as Max opened the room.

And I was suddenly worried that he could smell that we had just had sex.

Max gave me a look that said, _Don't ask me what's wrong with him_ , gesturing in resignation with his hands.

"Please, _do_ come in, Father," Max said sarcastically.

The sarcasm went straight over Evans Senior's head as he started pacing in front of the bed. I carefully pushed myself up into a seated position, extremely conscientious to hold onto the covers and keep them up to my chin.

"A moment ago, we received a disturbing piece of information." He stopped pacing, looking at us seriously, his eyes flickering from Max's to my face back to Max's.

Max slowly moved towards the bed and sank down next to me. He was serious when he asked, "What's wrong, Dad?"

"We are missing someone."

I frowned. "Who?"

"Everyone else is accounted for. Even the ashes in the tunnels from the shockwave has been identified. We thought he was one of those piles. But he's not. And some of the men you have been treating today told us some troubling things."

"Who, Dad?" Max insisted.

"The mayor. Eugene Bleeker."

I felt the blood drain from my face while the remnants of a conversation between Max and I rushed through my memory.

 _Never look the mayor in the eyes._

 _Why?_

 _Because he can do what Command can do, as long as he has eye contact. He likes to play, like a cat does with its prey. He'll kill you for his own sinister pleasure, rather than just kill you. He'll like to torture you first._

"What?" Max breathed with a mixture of annoyance and anger.

"Some of Command's men saw the mayor flee when Command started to become ill from trying to steal your abilities. Right before the shockwave."

I licked my lips. "What does this mean?"

I knew what it meant, but I was hoping Max's father would tell us something completely different and kill my fears.

Mr. Evans looked grim. "It means that we have no idea of Mr. Bleeker's current location." He sighed, tiredly. "It means that we have no idea where the most dangerous man, after Command, is."

Max looked at me, disappointment in his eyes, and confirmed in a low tone what I already knew, "It means that the war is not over."

* * *

 _A/N: Just letting you know that there is only one chapter left of "Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie". But as you can probably guess from the ending to this latest chapter, I won't finish the whole story in merely one chapter. In other words, there's going to be a sequel. It's called "Unbreakable - Surviving the Truth" and will (of course) be posted here on the board._

 _Thank you for reading! Thank you for leaving feedback!_


	119. ONE ONE NINE

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* * *

 **ONE ONE NINE**

The meeting had been going on for two hours and I just wanted it to end.

For the first 20 minutes, I had been angry. Angry at the aliens. Angry at the mayor, angry at the world. Max had shared in my general feeling of frustration and anger, and he had followed me straight into the next feelings that were emerging; disappointment and sadness.

Disappointed that the remaining aliens couldn't even capture one alien, considering that we had done the largest part of the job for them: killing Command.

But mostly I was sad that I had got a taste of freedom and a hint of a peaceful future, only to have it ripped like a rug from under my feet. We were saddened by the fact that Max and I would probably need to obliterate the mayor as well. Which meant that we had to put ourselves in danger. Again.

Next came fear. It was brought on by the realization that, with the mayor hiding somewhere, we couldn't know when, where, or if he might strike. The overwhelming, all-consuming, drowning fear coursed through our bodies and minds like acid, distancing us from the meeting, cocooning us inside our minds and the privacy our connection provided.

There, within the connection, we alternated between trying to calm ourselves down - attempting to convince ourselves that it wouldn't be that bad and that the (good) aliens most likely would quickly locate the mayor and bring him to justice - and plummeting into deep darkness with the conviction of having no way out.

Helplessness. Constraint. Duress. Detachment. Take your pick, we felt it.

After about half an hour of that, with Max's father asking for our attention, we went into our current state of mind: apathy.

Eventually, my body was fed up with all the emotional pressure and decided to throw some very real and very physical symptom in my direction; nausea. Perhaps as a final resort to get me out of this situation. It was strong, sudden and invasive. It didn't slowly creep up my throat like it usually did, instead it instantly fired up my salivary glands, making me produce more saliva than normally, forcing me to swallow and swallow while I fisted my hands against the surface of the brown leather couch.

Max was pulling me off the couch before I had a chance to make a conscious decision about what to do next.

Before the 30 or so participants to the meeting could ask what was going on, Max explained in a hurry, "She's not feeling too good."

The meeting had grown immediately quiet and if it hadn't been for the effort it took me to concentrate on not throwing up, the silent stares that followed my hasty departure from the room would have creeped me out.

His arm was steady around my waist, his body sure and strong against my side as he quickly led me to the closest bathroom.

With only a second to spare, Max got the toilet seat up and I emptied my stomach into the bowl while barely having time to get to my knees.

The dry heaves that followed were the worst. It was always better to have something to throw up than for the stomach to have been emptied in the first go. It felt like the stomach was on fire, each continuous attempt to retch making it turn inside out with more than a little burning sensation.

I hated that Max was there. Even though he was holding my hair back, like the perfect boyfriend, while stroking my back, I hated that he had to see me like this. I worried that he would find me disgusting, that he felt forced to be there and support me even when he didn't want to.

It made me think of that time when I was unprepared for the arrival of my period and I bled all over the bed sheets. The humiliation had been horrible.

I knew it was ridiculous. Max could read my thoughts for Christ's sake! There really was no borders between us, nothing that could be weird or odd at this point.

Still, hurling in front of him had heat blossom my cheeks and me turning my face away from him the second my stomach calmed down, so he wouldn't see the droplets of vomit on my chin.

"You okay?" he asked softly, worriedly. He sounded washed out, tired. Finished. As if he had been the one emptying his stomach contents, not me.

With the back of my head to him, I nodded, discreetly wiping my mouth with my hand. I wanted to get to the sink and wash up - the smells surrounding me were not very conducive to preventing further vomiting - but I felt as tired as Max sounded. All energy had left my body. I felt weak and worthless.

Max was reading my mind, already getting to his feet to help me, and I seriously considered waving him off, asking him to please leave me alone, but reluctantly I knew that I needed his help. I also knew that he was hurt by the fact that I didn't want him to be around me right now. And I knew that he was annoyed by the fact that I thought he found me disgusting, when he was merely worried about me and wanted to help.

But he said nothing. Neither vocally nor telepathically. He placed both of his large hands under my armpits and lifted me to my feet. Getting to the sink was only a matter of moving about five feet to the right, but it felt like a monumental distance.

The porcelain was cool beneath my gripping hands and I paused there, leaning over the sink with trembling legs, my head bowed and the nausea flowing through me in (more manageable now) waves.

Without a word, Max reached around me and turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature before letting it flow in front of me. I watched the water swirl down the drain, felt his presence around my back and was secretly relieved that he was there.

My hands were trembling as I reached into the stream from the faucet, cupped my hands around the water and brought it to my face. Over and over again I had the water splash against my reddened cheeks, washing away the remnants of my nausea and the cold sweat on my forehead.

Max waited. Giving me space while at the same time being very close. He was good at that. Being exactly what I needed without me having to ask. Without me knowing myself what I needed.

Eventually I looked up into the bathroom mirror, looking at my pale reflection, and meeting Max's eyes. "I don't think I can do this all over again." My voice broke, tears building in my eyes at a ridiculous speed.

Immediately, Max's arms were around my waist, pulling my back towards his front, placing his chin on my shoulder and kissing me softly on the side of my neck.

"I don't want to do this all over again," I sobbed, breaking.

He just hugged me tighter, placing random kisses against my neck and shoulder where my sweater revealed skin. The fact that he didn't say anything, that he did not offer me any nonsensical soothing words or tell me white lies about how everything would work out for the best, made me cry even harder.

Because there was nothing to say. There were no more words. No words would offer us comfort. We were trapped. Again.

* * *

 _The next day_

I had bought it on the way back from the Institute. I had come up with an excuse to use the bathroom at a petrol station and while returning the bathroom key, I had purchased one. I hadn't told anyone about it. Hadn't informed anyone of my suspicions. But I could see on his face that Max knew. The strangest thing was that he wasn't asking me about it, didn't ask to talk about it. We pretended that everything was normal. Well, as normal as our world could get.

Caught up in the war, I had no concrete way of knowing how late I was, but late it was. I had blamed my lack of menstruation on stress and lack of food, but changes to my body was making me think otherwise.

I got up from the toilet, put the white plastic stick with the digital screen on the edge of the sink, and distracted myself by wiping, pulling my pants up, and flushing. But my heart was pumping out of my chest, adrenaline, fear and nervousness drowning me. My knees were shaking as I stood looking at the digital hourglass, waiting for the answer.

The soft knock on the door made me jump, caught off guard.

"Liz?"

Max. Once again, I had forgotten about him being inside my head. My cheeks were burning and my hands were shaking when I turned on the tap and started to wash my hands, my eyes fixed on the digital test application.

"I'll be right out!" I announced, my voice shaking.

I felt sick, the nausea creeping threateningly up my throat.

"It's going to be okay," Max said, the softness to his voice barely enabling his voice to get through the closed door.

The last word of his concerned assurance coincided with the disappearance of the digital hourglass in the display. I stared at the text that instantly appeared in place of the hourglass, a mixture of fear and disbelief pressing down across my chest.

"Something has happened," I vaguely heard Max say, past the rushing of blood in my ears.

I swallowed harshly and picked up the application from the edge of the sink. I brought it closer to my face to make sure I had read the small print correctly, but my shaking hands were making the text blurry and basically unreadable. It was not facilitated by the tears in my eyes.

"Liz?"

I inhaled, trying to force the tears back, reached over to pull out a long stretch of toilet paper which I used to wrap up and hide the test in. Stepping on the floor pedal to the bin, I placed the application with the waste, hiding it underneath the pieces of dental floss and toilet paper to disguise it even further.

"I'll be right out," I told Max, not recognizing my own voice.

I washed my hands again, shakily dried them off on the soft aqua-colored hand towel, took a quick look at my flushed face in the mirror, surprised that I didn't look that different, and took a deep breath in attempt to collect myself.

Walking up to the door, I stopped right inside of it, feeling Max's presence through the door, and hesitated to turn the lock. My gaze moved from the door knob to my abdomen and I halted. Placing my hand gently against the lower part of my abdomen, I was hit with a flood of emotions. Not all of those emotions were mine, they were mixed up with Max's.

Sorrowfully, he whispered, "Lizzie," through the door.

Leaning my forehead against the door, my hand still on my abdomen, I let the moment surround me for a couple of seconds before letting it go.

Straightening, I opened the door, almost stepping straight into Max. He was standing right outside the door. Almost pressed up against it.

I recognized the look in his eyes now. The shadows that had quickly passed through his eyes at various times these past few days.

He took my hand, causing me to look down at where his dark olive skin contrasted with my porcelain tone, his large hand enveloping my much smaller one.

"You knew," I stated quietly, eyes fixed on our hands.

Without a word, he pulled me into his warm chest, his arms tight around my back, the side of his cheek resting on the top of my head. I stood still, frozen. I felt like a statue, a robot. My emotions were all over the place, trying to - firstly - deal with the news, and secondly, trying to figure out how to react to the fact that Max had known and had chosen not to tell me. Why would he hide it from me?

"I wish we could talk about this now," Max whispered against my hair and squeezed me tighter. His voice was a well of regret and sadness, "But we can't. We have to go downstairs. Something has happened."

Unexpectedly, I was flooded with anger. Why? Why couldn't we talk about this now? What could be more important than this right now? Why did we always have to end up at the bottom of someone else's priority list?

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, no doubt feeling my anger.

But while anger was threatening to consume me, making me grow even stiffer in Max's embrace, I became aware of Max's emotions. I had believed them to be in response to what I had just found out in the bathroom, but once I refocused from the anger and dug through Max's mind, I became certain that something else actually had happened. Something that had shaken Max.

And the fact that Max seemed more shaken by this other thing than by what I had just experienced both fueled my anger and poured blinding hurt on top.

I wiggled out of his arms and looked at him. To be honest, I _glared_ at him. I found myself immune to the paleness of his face, to the simmering tears in his eyes, to the dilation of his pupils. I couldn't take in his feelings right now. I was too overwhelmed by my own.

Which meant that I snapped at him when maybe I shouldn't, "What's wrong? What happened this time?"

An old man's face flashed in front of my inner eye. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Max pressed his lips together, an unreadable expression on his face. "He wants to meet you."

I bit into my lower lip, taking a step back from my boyfriend. I was really not in the mood to meet people. I wanted to cry. I wanted to talk to Max. I wanted to figure things out.

He looked like he was about to collapse when he reached out and his finger silently captured the single tear that was rolling down my cheek. But even with his obvious distress, shock and sorrow, he emitted control and strength. It never ceased to amaze me how he could keep it together. Through everything.

But right now, his control was infuriating me further.

"I don't feel like meting people right now," I told him honestly, pointing out something he obviously already knew.

"I know," he whispered. "But it's important."

I was perplexed by the fact that Max wasn't giving in. At other times, when it came to his father and the rest trying to force Max to do anything he didn't want to, he had always put up a fight. But he wasn't this time. Even though I could tell that he wanted to protect me and didn't want to force me, he was still pushing.

Why?

"Just come with me," Max said in explanation.

I looked at his face for a long time, tuned in to his emotions, tried to sort out his thoughts, but my hurt was muddling everything and I couldn't focus.

"Let's just get it over with," I mumbled, feeling betrayed and alone.

Max reached for my hand and I reluctantly let him take it.

"I love you," he said quietly.

The hurt stabbed into my heart and I pressed my lips tightly together to stop myself from crying, saying, "Okay."

I knew I hurt him. Which made me feel terrible. Which made us walk in silence downstairs, with me experiencing an almost out-of-body feeling. I felt detached from this world, only thinking about the thing I had hid in the trash in the bathroom.

Isabel was there. So was Mr. Evans and Alex. I could see them from the middle of the stairs, gathering around someone I didn't know in the living room.

Max's grip on my hand tightened, which had the effect of putting me on alert, of sharpening my senses.

Before we had reached the last step of the flight of stairs, Mr. Evans moved to the side and revealed the old man that Max's mind had flashed me earlier.

His hair was grey, with strands of white, and it was rather neatly cut. He had a short beard, just enough to shadow his wrinkled face. He was thin, but didn't look weak. He was standing tall, assertiveness in his stance. But what I noticed the most were his eyes. Eyes filled with warmth and gentleness. Eyes that widened as they saw me.

And I knew where I had seen those eyes before. In a memory. A memory projected into my mind by Max's father.

"Liz," Max said quietly next to me and I already knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Meet my grandfather, George."

I grew still, unable to look away from the eyes that were so similar to Max's. Max had his grandfather's eyes.

The grandfather who had lived on another planet as a child. The grandfather who was one of the few healers sent to planet Earth. The grandfather who had known about parims.

The grandfather I had been told was dead.

Shakily, I looked up at Max. "What's going on?"

 **THE END**

* * *

We have reached the end of _"Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie"_. I have loved the whole journey of writing it, of the characters taking control over me and telling their story through me (as they usually do), and interacting with you, my wonderful readers.

Thank you for all the words, the compliments, the lengthy feedbacks, the short feedbacks, the reactions and the discussions.

But it doesn't end here. The sequel is called _"Unbreakable - Surviving the Truth"_ and will be posted here soon (in a week or so).

\- Jo


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